


Fall Through the Air

by heyshalina



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Camping, Canon Compliant, Complete, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Fugitives, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Medical Procedures, Parallel Universes, Political Coup, Post-Season/Series 01, Rebellion, References to Depression, Spoilers, Strained Friendships, Strained Relationships, Supernatural Elements, cute baby scenes, multi-chapter, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyshalina/pseuds/heyshalina
Summary: “’Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.’” Grizz speaks, and nearly everyone turns their heads towards him. He clears his throat. “That’s, uh. That’s from Vonnegut. I think.”He looks up from the ground. Allie is staring at him. She follows his gaze to Sam, whose eyes never left the fire, and never heard what he said. After a moment, Bean silently begins to cry..Post season 1. In the aftermath of the coup led by Campbell that has stripped all power away from Allie and her friends, the citizens of New Ham must confront the oncoming winter, depleting food supplies, sickness, and political corruption. As do the group of teenagers hiding out in the woods, where more threats hide in the periphery.
Relationships: Elle Tomkins & Helena Wu, Kelly Aldrich/Becca Gelb, Kelly Aldrich/Harry Bingham, Luke Holbrook/Helena Wu, Sam Eliot & Becca Gelb, Sam Eliot/Gareth "Grizz" Visser, Will LeClair/Allie Pressman
Comments: 39
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marshmallowfluff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowfluff/gifts), [MyWaywardWeb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWaywardWeb/gifts).



> My first contribution to the Society fandom. Many thanks to marshmallowfluff for making me watch it, and to mywaywardweb for letting me make her watch it, and for helping edit.
> 
> This story will be uploaded in 5 parts. It'll be moderately long (longer than any of my other fics), but it's all already written. I hope you'll stick around and enjoy.
> 
> Content warnings for some chapters will be added in the notes before the work, with descriptors in the notes at the end. Please let me know if I miss anything at any point, and I will be sure to add it.

**i.**

**_“I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society”_ **

– _Henry David Thoreau_

.

Harry’s hands are shaking.

The forest looks solemnly back at him, stoic and unmoving, save for a gentle sway of the winter air. The sky above him is straining, full with dark clouds that promise fractured change. He strains his ears for the snap of a twig, trains his eyes on the ground to spot the movement of a chipmunk, and is gifted with nothing. There is no movement behind him, either, the road empty. He stands still in dead air, listening to his erratic heartbeat, his breathing. A hitching sound.

January had not been kind. Christmas had come and gone, every moment lackluster, a tree Clark had chopped down tilted at an angle in the corner of the church. New Year’s had been met with closed doors and silence. There was nothing to celebrate about a new year in a place like this.

There had been no feasting. They were running low on food, and the cold had come quickly – those at the farm were waiting for the ground to thaw. They would have to wait until March, at least, and then begin the process of tilling the land, picking out rocks of varying sizes. Even then, there was no promise of success. Farming in Connecticut had never been a gentle venture.

Thinking about the farm makes his chest heavy, and he wants to go home. He tries to avoid thinking about the food, the farm, these days, makes that Lexie’s shit to deal with, because when he thinks about the farm he thinks about the forest and then he’s here – here, staring at the foliage that seems to be growing inward towards them, that’s overtaking more of the road, swallowing them whole, and she was right, Allie was right –

He waits for Kelly to come out of the forest. For Allie. For his mom, for Cassandra, for anyone. He watches for anything to emerge, but nothing comes. This moment is one of absence, a tangible thing, and he hates it. It makes him ache. There is no movement. Not even a mouse, or a cardinal. The forest steals sound. He realizes that he could yell, and no one would come for him. He stays silent.

_I’m sorry_ , he tries to say, but it dies in his throat. It wouldn’t be worth it. No one that needs to hear it is here, and he doesn’t trust the trees to pass it along.

His thoughts hang heavily off of him, like chains. He is afraid to say anything out loud, lest someone hear him. Sure, he has his house back, elegant and bare, but that’s all he has. Everything he does, he does without air. Who is he? Even when he was everything, was he anything at all?

The trees only stare back at him, leaves quivering soundlessly, mocking his trembling hands. The forest is boundless and gaping, and it wants to eat them whole.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He digs it out, holds it in his fingers. He only gets messages from one person now, since he drove everyone else away. Reading the message leaves a bitterness in the back of his throat. From Campbell: _the mayor is needed in the church_.

Harry watches the tree line for a moment more. He doesn’t expect anything to come out, for any sign to appear; nevertheless, when nothing comes, he is still disappointed. He breathes one last full breath and then walks, oiled and empty, back onto the streets of New Ham.

.

“Hey Grizz, it’s looking good!”

Grizz wipes sweat off of his forehead, rising to his full height from his position hunched over a wooden two by four. In the distance, Bean is walking past the tent circle with a fishing pole in her hand. She waves and gestures with the pole toward the pond. He waves back, and she gives him a thumbs up.

He turns and looks at the object of her praise. At first, they had all walked the mile and a half through the woods every morning and every evening before sundown to start the work of farming the meadow. It had become clear very quickly that they would need a separate place to stay; they couldn’t get enough work done, and the forest still made everyone feel uneasy and unsafe. Those a part of their little group had put down their tents, one by one, into a circle near the middle of the field. It’s going to snow sooner or later, though, and Grizz is now worried. He wants to put a roof over their heads. Some guys that aced woodshop helped him with the supplies, but Lexie and Harry had made it very clear that once it was in the field, they were on their own. This is what he had to show for it all: a wooden platform in the grass.

He sticks out his hand, waiting for the first snowflake to fall. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches until Bean makes it to the pond, sitting on a rock and casting her line out into the water. They have to take turns fishing now. It’s too cold to keep the stationary position for long. From the tent circle, the baby begins to cry.

Grizz’s heartbeat immediately skyrockets without his permission and he sits, waiting, until the door of the tent flaps open, and Sam steps out into the brisk January air. He watches in the pale dawn light as the boy walks closer to the fire in the middle of the circle, bouncing a small bundle on his hip. Even from this distance, it is so quiet that Grizz can hear Sam shushing the baby softly, humming quietly in soothing, off-key tones.

Something tightens in his chest, clenching so tightly it begins to cramp. He puts his hatchet on the ground and looks at his calloused hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam straighten up as the baby quiets down. He turns and looks at Grizz, sitting alone on the wooden platform.

Before Grizz can do anything, Sam is walking over toward him, holding Eden flush against his chest. The baby is wrapped up in about four blankets, underneath which she’s wearing the most thermal baby onesie they could find. They only had the one baby in New Ham, after all – they had their pick of whatever they wanted in the store.

Grizz stays rigid, passing the hammer he’d been using back and forth between his hands. Sam sits down next to him – not too close – and sighs. From underneath the blankets, Grizz can hear Eden coo softly, shifting. Sam places a hand on the back of her head. He stares out at the soft pink sky, the wisps of clouds passing overhead, promising to become more substantial.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” Sam says, but it comes out as more of a whisper. Grizz drags a hand over his face, hates that he understands that Sam is trying to be quiet, gentle. Hates that it excites him, too, to understand. It’s like reading a book you were told not to open. Every new thing he understands about Sam makes him feel more invested, and that’s the opposite of what he’s trying to do. Both for his sake, apparently, but also for Sam’s.

“There’s a snowstorm coming,” Grizz says, not looking at Sam but signing as he speaks. Sam nods. He doesn’t sign back, his hands occupied with the squirming baby.

“Kelly is going to take Becca and Eden back to town,” Sam replies. “Right now everything is fine, but it will be too cold.”

There’s a pause between them. Grizz watches as a wren flies down a few feet from them, picking at the ground with its beak. It finds a seed and hops off. He wonders what it will be like when the ground is covered in snow.

He turns toward Sam so he can see his face. “Are you going?”

Sam kicks at the dirt with his foot. “I don’t think so. I want to stay and help.”

“You don’t want to help Becca?”

“At the town, Kelly can help more. I will just sit there, and feel afraid. Here, I can be useful.”

“And feel afraid,” Sam stares at Grizz’s hands as he signs, blinks at his stiff posture. He swallows whatever is in his throat, looks down at the ground again.

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “I suppose so.”

Gwen emerges from her tent, walking toward the fire and stoking it with a large stick. She adds more wood, and after a minute it is burning higher. Grizz wishes he could feel the warmth from here. Will slowly walks out and sits by the heat, large hoodie and coat wrapped around him. Gwen offers him a piece of smoked fish from the night before. Will waves it away.

“I don’t want to lie,” Grizz says, and then looks at Sam when the boy’s head turns toward him, questioning. “I don’t want to lie.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t –”

Grizz concentrates on speaking slowly, on signing what he can. “If you want to stay, you can stay. We could use the help. But if you’re with Becca, be with Becca. Don’t ask me to be here with you when she isn’t. Don’t ask me to lie with you.”

Sam’s hand flies up to sign, eyes hurt, and then he drops it. Eden makes a sound from underneath her blankets, shifting, and Sam’s other hand tightens around her.

“ I – okay,” Sam whispers, nodding. His Adam’s apple moves up and down, his eyes wet. Grizz pretends not to see, staring at the fire. It’s probably just from the cold. “Okay.”

Grizz stands, dropping the hammer and reaching his grip around the handle of a drill. He fishes some screws out of his pocket, grabbing another two-by-four and laying it across a hole in the platform. The final piece of the floor. Sam watches him, and Grizz tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He gestures at the drill, and then to Eden. Sam nods, standing and walking away, back toward the circle of tents. Grizz waits until he’s back inside before starting again. He’s already made Sam cry. He can’t make his baby cry, too.

At night, they all sit around the fire in silence, as embers escape up into the night sky. Kelly finishes stacking her and Becca’s bags next to the tents, prepared to leave in the morning. The first ghosts of flurries are beginning to fall from the sky. In the old world, Grizz imagines they’d all be excited about the oncoming storm, putting spoons under their pillows and praying for a snow day. Now, everyone’s faces are grim. Allie has her head buried in her arms, propped up against her knees. Will puts an arm around her silently, and she doesn’t react.

Bean passes around a plate with roasted fish on it, everyone taking small bites and placing them gingerly into their mouths. Grizz gnaws a bit on a charred bit of fish skin. With a sigh, Gwen turns and goes into the food tent, emerging with a bag of cheddar popcorn. Grizz raises an eyebrow at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s getting colder, we need the carbs,” she says. “And I’m fucking hungry.”

No one objects, and Gwen peels open the bag. She grabs a handful and passes it to Mickey, who is shivering. Everyone flinches when he drops some into the dirt. When the bag makes it around to Grizz, he puts one kernel in his mouth first, closing his eyes and savoring the cheese flavor. When he opens his eyes, he makes brief eye contact with Sam. Sam blinks, and then tears his gaze away. Grizz grabs a handful of the popcorn and nudges Allie’s foot with his, shaking the bag. She looks up at him for a moment, and he offers her a small smile. She straightens up, shaking off Will’s arm and reaching a hand into the bag.

Kelly tries to distract everyone with a funny story, which turns into a game where everyone says a sentence as they go around, building the tale. Every time it reaches Sam he simply waves it away, skipping to Becca.

“And then, the giants decide to go on a great journey!” Bean exclaims, gesturing her arms in a big arch.

“To find out what existed on the other side of the Giant Giant Mountain,” Kelly continues.

“And to find out if there were other giants out there, or if they were truly all alone.” Becca says.

“When they got over the other side of the mountain, they discovered there were miles and miles of civilizations,” Mickey adds.

“But the people that lived there were normal sized,” Gwen says. “They were too small.”

“The giants were too big, and the people couldn’t understand them,” Will rasps. “It was like they weren’t there at all.”

“All they wanted was to talk to the people,” Allie says. “To be accepted into their houses, to be warm. Their heads touched above the clouds, and it was so cold.”

Grizz’s turn. “So all the giants huddled together for warmth.”

“But when they huddled together, the giants were so big that they blocked out the sun,” Bean contributes softly.

“Without the sun, no crops could grow,” Kelly says. “The people began to grow hungry, and they too were cold.”

“They cried up at the giants, not understanding.”

“But the giants were too far up, and they couldn’t hear,” Mickey’s voice is shaking.

“And so both the giants and the people were cold, and lonely.”

“Neither of them could understand,” Will speaks, his voice in monotone. “They could only ask why.”

Everyone falls silent, shivering despite the crackle and roar of the fire. Becca peeks down at Eden, bundled inside her coat against her chest. Mickey reaches out at the flames, trying to warm his hands. Allie rests her head on her palm, eyes following a coal as it falls from its position to the edge of the fire, just an inch or two from the grass. Grizz looks around at the faces of his friends. All he can see is cold, and longing.

“’Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.’” Grizz speaks, and nearly everyone turns their heads towards him. He clears his throat. “That’s, uh. That’s from Vonnegut. I think.”

He looks up from the ground. Allie is staring at him. She follows his gaze to Sam, whose eyes never left the fire, and never heard what he said. After a moment, Bean silently begins to cry.

.

“Let the third council meeting of 2020 be henceforth called into action!” Clark bangs a small gavel he had found in the debate team’s practice room. It echoes off the church pew in a way that sounds discordant and off.

“Shut the fuck up, Clark,” Luke mutters. “This isn’t a courtroom. Or a real council.”

“This isn’t a real council?” Jason asks. “We all got voted in, and everything. Seems pretty real to me.”

“Look the fuck around you,” Luke rolls his eyes. “The council is the Guard, plus Gretchen.”

Gretchen gives a small wave from her place across the aisle.

“Just be happy you’re on the council, Lukey,” Campbell says, standing behind Jason. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have any real power at all.”

Luke sighs, looking past Jason at the other end of the row. Lexie is looking at her nails, and then quickly switches to picking at her split ends. Harry is looking out the stained glass window, gaze vacant. He had stumbled in late, like always, and just sat down without saying a word. Like always.

Luke can barely contain his frustration. He rubs his fist against his sternum, and then cracks his knuckles. Takes a deep breath.

“We’re actually here to talk about something real, so uh,” Luke leans forward in his pew. “People are getting sick. We’ve run out of chicken soup, and uh, all the soup that was in the pantry. It seems just like the regular flu, but people can’t work.”

“And it’s going to snow,” Jason chimes in. “We need hands to shovel, and other stuff.”

“How do we know it’s gonna snow?” Clark asks. “We don’t have the weather channel anymore.”

“Dude,” Jason replies. “The clouds.”

“Do we have a list of everyone’s who’s sick?” Lexie asks, interrupting them.

“Yeah,” Gordie speaks up from his place a few rows back. He looks uncomfortable, constantly wringing his hands. Luke has seen him pacing the streets of town when he’s not working, looking out at the woods. He knows he wants to leave and be with his friends out at the farm. They won’t let him. “I have a list, and I’ve made a count of all the cold medicine we have. I’m trying to ration it, but a lot of people are getting sick. Luke is right, it seems like it’s just the flu, but it’s not like any of us got our fucking flu shots this year.”

Gretchen coughs. Everyone turns to glare at her, and she shrinks into herself. “Sorry.”

“Make an updated work shift,” Lexie says. “I want to see how sick everyone is. If they have a fever, they don’t work. If they’re just coughing, they can suck it up.”

“We’re gonna have to keep changing the shifts,” Gordie argues. “People are going to keep spreading it, more people are gonna catch it. Going into public spaces to work while they’re sick isn’t going to help.”

“And what are you doing to stop it?” Campbell asks, leaning forward. “I thought you were our doctor.”

“I’m not a fucking doctor, I’ve just read some books.” Gordie clenches his fists. “I don’t know what I’m actually doing, not if someone needs fluids, or runs too hot, or –”

“No, we’d need Kelly for that,” Campbell taunts, tone flippant and uncaring. “But she ran away to take care of the whore.”

Luke forms a fist by his side, but doesn’t move. Gordie turns red. “She’s not a fucking –”

“Don’t.” Harry’s voice is hard as he turns toward Campbell, pointing a finger. It shakes. “Don’t talk about Kelly that way.”

“ _Kelly_?” Gordie fumes. “Sure, but Becca –”

“Do what you can,” Lexie interrupts. “Don’t waste all the cold medicine, and don’t use prescriptions unless you have to. Only we are allowed into the pharmacy, no one else. Everyone who’s well enough will be split into shoveling or cooking duty for the next three days, until the snow is over.”

There’s a pause, and then Clark speaks. “This fucking sucks.”

Lexie stands, wringing her hands. “This is what we’ve inherited. Until spring comes, this is what we’re working with. Get used to it.”

She walks toward the door, opening and slamming it with the same force. There’s a beat, and then Gordie gets up and walks out, too.

“Well, uh,” Clark stammers, and then slams the gavel down again. “That concludes the third council meeting of the new year. Congratulations, everyone.”

Luke stands up. “I guess I’ll go compile all the shovels. So we can, you know, do our fucking jobs.”

“I’ll come help you, bro,” Jason says, and gets up. Clark follows them as they leave, trailing behind like a lost puppy.

“Can we get some candy, or something, after?” He asks. “We’ve had a hard week, and I have a craving.”

“Sure,” Luke says, pushing the door open. The world outside is barren, as well. “Whatever, dude.”

He leaves the church behind, the remaining occupants sitting silently. Campbell looks after them, and Luke gets the message: they weren’t dismissed. Luke huffs to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Campbell can think he’s in charge if he wants. At the end of the day, this whole plan is falling apart, and Luke doesn’t plan to be caught in it when it comes tumbling down, rubble and ashes. He does plan for Campbell and Harry to be caught in the fall. Right in the middle, like they wanted. Like they deserve.

He tries to imagine getting married to Helena in the church. Tries to imagine community dinners, movie nights, flag football. Anything joyous has been washed away with the coming of the new year and the falling of the snow. Even if he could take charge himself, could reach out to Allie, he couldn’t. He’s on a leash, and Campbell is holding the end of it.

Fuck him.

.

Eden cries when Becca takes her out of Sam’s arms. It’s always like this. She always cries.

“She likes my singing,” Sam says, smiling as he signs.

“No one likes your singing, Sam,” Becca scolds, and he laughs at her. She looks at him fondly. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” He replies. “Stay safe, and warm. No town meetings.”

“We’re staying at Kelly’s house,” She says softly. Kelly hoists the massive backpack onto her shoulder and smiles. Small snowflakes are making their way down from the sky.

“I mean it,” Sam’s eyes are strained. “Stay out of sight.”

“We won’t even exist,” Becca smirks, sass lining her words and her motions.

“Becca.” Sam scolds. She falters.

“Gordie says people are getting sick.”

“Like I said,” Sam reaches out to pull a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Stay safe.”

“We’ll be back when the snow stops,” Kelly says, coming into Sam’s line of sight. “It can’t be cold forever.”

Sam nods, eyes strained as his hands move. “Right.”

“Okay,” Becca says, looking past Sam at the rest of their group gathered there. “Goodbye, everyone.”

Everyone echoes the sentiment back to them. Grizz raises one large hand, smiling, and then drops it by his side. Allie gives her a strained grin, but doesn’t maintain eye contact. As soon as her and Kelly turn away, she puts her hands into her pockets and walks off toward the lake. Will gives her a long look, but doesn’t go after her. Grizz stays where he is standing, ten feet behind Sam, who watches them go until they disappear into the trees.

Immediately, Becca is winded. “I am so out of fucking shape,” She wheezes.

“Give yourself a break,” Kelly says, all peppy and athletic and shit. “You gave birth to a baby almost two months ago. A baby that was nine pounds, by the way.”

“We don’t do anything half-assed,” Becca coos to Eden, who is strapped to her chest by a papoose they found at a looted CVS. “We Gelbs are winners. Maybe you’ll be more athletic than me.”

Eden gurgles in response. Kelly smiles.

“My little Olympic star,” Becca says, stepping over a fallen log. “I’ll teach you to ice skate. We’ll start on the pond, and then sneak into the ice arena. Just the two of us. You’ll be the best in New Ham. If we ever make it back home, the best in the world.”

To prove her point, Becca skids a bit on a patch of ice, nearly tripping over a root. Kelly shoots out a hand to steady her, and Becca smiles a thank you. They keep walking, Becca humming a lullaby under her breath, occasionally blowing warm air into Eden’s coat. A few minutes down the trail Grizz had subtly marked in the woods, Kelly sighs.

“What is it?” Becca asks.

“What? Nothing.”

“Come on,” Becca teases. “We’ve been hanging out nonstop for like, three months. I think I know when you’re lying.”

“Fine,” Kelly concedes, tugging her backpack tighter and looking ahead at the trail. “I just. I feel bad.”

“Why? Because you’re making a recently pregnant woman walk over a mile through the woods?”

“You say recently pregnant like it’s a medical condition.”

“Get to the point.”

“I feel like I figured something out about this place,” Kelly says. “Not much, but _something_. And then I just left it all behind. For good reason, to take care of Eden, and you, but ever since I found out about Pfeiffer, I’ve felt like we’ve been right on the edge of discovering more about this world. And we’ve got nothing more to show for it.”

“That’s not your fault, Kelly.” Becca trots to catch up the couple steps to her friend, putting a hand on her shoulder. “This is all so fucked up.”

Kelly stops in the middle of the trail, looking at Becca. “And I. I feel like I let Harry down.”

“ _Harry_ down?” Becca says incredulously. “He overthrew Allie in a coup. With _Campbell_.”

“I don’t think that was his choice,” Kelly defends. “I don’t know, I just feel like. I know Harry. I don’t think he would have thought to do that.”

“Maybe he didn’t think to do it, but he did it,” Becca asserts. “Look, I’m sorry, but forgive me if I’m not so lenient toward your piece of shit ex-boyfriend that overthrew my friend in a weird parallel universe shadow government.”

Kelly huffs, and shifts on her feet. A hand comes up to nervously tug at her hat, bringing it further down over her ears.

“I know,” she says. “I don’t know. You don’t know Harry like I do.”

A cloud passes over Becca’s face as her eyebrows furrow. “I know I don’t. But I know enough to know he’s not good enough for you. You’re wasting your precious brain space on a douchebag that’s made it clear that his top priority is himself.”

Kelly looks out into the woods, biting her lip. She kicks at the ground, displacing a patch of moss. “You shouldn’t swear so much around the baby.”

“She doesn’t know what I’m saying, _do you, cutie_?” Becca tickles Eden’s cheek, and the baby squeals.

“You’re too used to being around Sam,” Kelly comments, beginning to walk again. She leaves the Harry argument behind – she knows Becca’s right, but not entirely. The world doesn’t work in whole stories. “Where you can swear as much as you want, and he wouldn’t even know.”

“Oh, he knows,” Becca says. “He’s the worst, much worse than me. Like, I’m living proof that not all goodie two-shoes are innocent. Have you heard him wax poetic about porn?”

“You guys are both trash-mouths.”

“Gets me all the boys,” Becca says snidely, and when Kelly turns to look at her face it’s turned away, eyes dark and troubled.

After a while, they start to come up toward the bridge over the train station, nearly obscured by the thick foliage but still visible. Kelly eyes the train cars sitting, stagnant, on the near frozen tracks. Thinks about how Gordie and her broke into one before she left for the farm, packing away a few medical supplies, a few cans of food, some other supplies. Just in case. No one had thought to use the trolley cars for shelter, with all the houses around, and it seems like that mentality has held true – the trains are undisturbed.

An insurance policy, Kelly reminds herself. Just in case.

The barely-worn dirt path becomes pavement, suddenly, like a change in mood. Their steps are halted, more tentative, as they walk into the silent streets of New Ham. Before, when the weather was kinder, people would walk around together, hang out in the quad, the streets full of talk and anxious laughter. Now, Kelly is sure that if the wind would die down, you would be able to hear a pin drop. Hear as a bullet shell fell to the ground.

“Do you think people are gonna be happy to see us?” Becca asks, but she’s joking. Her voice is thin, and afraid.

“I think Gordie will be,” Kelly replies. “No one else needs to know.”

“What about food?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kelly says, and Becca gives her a pointed look. “Fine. I have some food stashed away in my house, in the basement. From, before, in the beginning. Look, I was scared at first, like everyone, and –”

“Kelly,” Becca says, placing a gloved hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Everyone did. You’re not a bad person.”

“Yeah,” Kelly nods.

“I’m honestly impressed you didn’t eat it,” Becca muses. “When I first started to get cravings, before you figured out I was pregnant and started bringing me rations, Sam snuck into the kitchen and stole a package of little debbies for me.”

“He snuck in? Sam. And he didn’t get caught?”

Becca laughs, a soft snort coming out of her nose. “Of course he did. Will tapped him on the shoulder from behind and he lost his shit. Still let him take some, though.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Barely. Sam went in to grab a whole box, and brought me back two. Lasted me about half a minute.”

Kelly looks down the street and sees no one, most of the houses shut with their blinds pulled. Only a block more to go. Both of the girls carry the same level of anxiety, and Eden must sense it, because they all remain silent for the final walk into Kelly’s neighborhood, and then around back to the back door of her house. Kelly doesn’t know why she’s so nervous, but she doesn’t breathe properly until they’re inside the house, she’s locked all the doors, and made sure Harry nor Campbell were waiting for them. It’s warmer inside the house than out on the street, but just barely. Kelly considers turning the heat on in the whole place, then decides to just turn it on upstairs, where they’ll be sleeping.

As soon as they make it to the bedroom and shed their coats, Eden begins to fuss. Becca sighs and sits on the bed, slipping the shoulder of her shirt and bra strap off. She positions Eden against her hip, and then pulls down her shirt so that Eden can nurse. She does it casually, like Kelly wouldn’t be bothered at all by seeing her even a little bit naked. She’s not. She’s seen it a million times now, helping out with Eden, and hell, her birth. Nonetheless, she finds herself turning away slightly, bending down to unpack their bags. There’s a blush starting to creep up the sides of her neck, and she tucks her jacket collar up to hide it. It’s best if she doesn’t have to explain anything, doesn’t have to think about what it means.

“Kelly?” Becca asks softly.

“Yeah?” Kelly asks, looking back at her. Becca looks sad. “What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” she says. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t swear so much around Eden. Sam said he read a book once that babies can understand words pretty soon after they’re born, especially if they hear them a lot. Sam thinks it’s still okay, but he thinks that people don’t understand him when he talks anyway, so why should the baby? And that’s not fair, he’s not fair to himself, and I just… what if my baby’s first words are like, fuck, or something?”

Kelly breathes out a laugh through her nose. “Eden’s first word isn’t gonna be fuck.”

“It could be!” Becca sits up a little straighter. “It’s a fucked up world here, it could happen. It’s not gonna be mama, or dada, or Kelly, or food, it’s gonna be fuck.”

“Glad to see I rank up there with food.”

“Of course you do, you’re basically her aunt,” Becca says, and that stirs something within Kelly. She’s just not sure what. “When she’s not gonna be asking for me or Sam, she’s gonna be asking for you, or for food. That’s what I would do.”

“Then she’s gonna be a very smart, lucky baby,” Kelly says, rising to sit next to Becca on the bed. She reaches out at the small wisps of hair on Eden’s head, dark brown like her mother’s. “Having so many people to love and care for her.”

“It takes a village.” Becca smiles at her, and Kelly grins back.

There’s a sudden outburst of shouting, and a door banging open, but from far away. Kelly jumps up and runs to the window, parting the curtains to look out into the street. When she squints, she can see people at the end of the road. One of the Guard, recognizable by their jackets, is shouting at someone in the middle of the street. They’re only wearing their pajamas, and are hunched over. They shout something again, and the other figure nods, rising and getting into a car waiting at the end of the block. Faces gathered at the door of the house disappear, and the door closes.

Kelly turns around, and Becca is staring at her intently. “It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” Becca argues.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Kelly corrects, sitting back down on the bed. She places her hand over Becca’s, her thumb sweeping across her skin softly. “It was one of the Guard. Looked like someone skimped out on their work shift.”

“Work shifts,” Becca scoffs. “There’s trash everywhere. No one’s been working.”

“I guess not.”

“Are they looking for us?”

“No. They won’t find us. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Is it snowing yet?”

“Just a little bit.”

“I’m scared, Kelly,” Becca says, and her voice finally quivers. Kelly scoots just a tiny bit closer, puts a warm hand on Eden’s back. Breathes.

“I know.”

.

Sam stands for a long time, watching the edge of the woods. He fidgets with his hands, unaware of Grizz sitting on a log, stoking the fire behind him. Grizz looks up at Sam occasionally, but Sam doesn’t turn around. After a long while, Grizz stands and walks away, toward the platform at the edge of the clearing. There are three boards perched up tall, the beginnings of a wall, but nothing else. Will thinks he should go help him, but imagines he might just get in the way. A long while after that, Sam finally turns around, eyes wet, and retreats back into his tent.

“He should’ve gone with her,” Allie comments, leaning her head against her palm. She sits like this most often now, bundled up and curled over next to the fire. Even on the nights Will gets her to come to bed, he wakes up without her next to him, and finds her stoking the fire outside.

“Allie,” Will scolds gently.

“What?” She scoffs. “He can’t hear me.”

“I can,” Will says. “He’s your cousin.”

“He’d agree with me,” Allie shrugs. “He made the wrong move. Once it starts snowing we won’t be able to get anything done here, anyway. We’ll all be focusing on making sure we don’t all freeze to death.”

Will turns away from her, back toward the fire. He reaches forward and pokes it with the giant stick, watches how embers crackle and release. Allie shifts next to him.

“Not as if family does a fat load of good, anyway.”

“Hey, do you wanna, I dunno, maybe take a walk with me?” Will asks, blinking and pivoting back to face her. Allie blinks up at him, a disbelieving smile on her face. A shutdown smile.

“Take a walk with you.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “I just feel like we’re always so just, cooped up here.”

“We’re in the great outdoors.”

“You know what I mean.” Will stands. The snowflakes coming down around them are light and small, barely sticking. He hopes it stays that way. “Sitting here around the fire all the time is the equivalent of you sulking in your room.”

“I’m not sulking,” Allie says petulantly, but she stands with him anyway, walking slowly out of the tent circle and across the field. “I’m keeping warm.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“Sure,” Allie rolls her eyes. “That’s gonna happen.”

“Will you just work with me, here?” Will snaps, and Allie’s lips purse. “This sucks, I get it. You don’t want to talk about going back, about fixing things. I get it.”

“What is there to fix?” There’s an emptiness to Allie’s voice that reminds Will of when Cassandra died. He figures that wasn’t actually all that long ago. Maybe it just stayed. “We barely made it out of there, alive. If they knew where we were, or cared to actually figure out where this place is, we’d be dead. End of story. We could have chosen that, to die knowing what we did was right. Instead we chose this. To sit here, and freeze to death, and not _fix_ anything.”

“We’re not trying,” Will says.

“You mean I’m not trying,” Allie replies, bitter. She kicks at the ground, and the soil is just cold enough to not move at all.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“And even if there was anything we could do, any power I had, it’s gone. It’s not like we can form a rebellion with nine people and a dream. Our cell phones can’t even reach the town from here. And if we were to just take it all back, just to be in charge again, no one would trust me! No one would trust us. No, fuck that. Fuck them.”

Will slows down slightly, searching Allie’s face. They’re near the pond now, and the dying grasses and cattails shudder in the wind. There had been emotion in Allie’s voice, but when Will looks in her eyes, he’s not sure he sees anything at all. There’s barely any trace of the girl that existed before they came to this place, save for a small spark he knows is still within her. But the girl she was before, Will’s not sure he fell in love with her. He fell in love with the person Allie had become when she stepped up to the plate, took charge, took accountability. She had made good decisions, and taken care of people.

And it had landed them here.

“What about us?” He asks, tilting his head. Allie snaps her head up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What about fixing that?”

Allie huffs. “You’re such a –”

“No, come here, sit with me,” Will says, and he grabs Allie’s hand gently, leading her over to the fishing log. Mickey had left his post twenty minutes earlier, with two fish they would share throughout the coming days of the storm. That is, if they can keep the fire going. He tries not to think too much about that.

Will sits with Allie on the wood of the log, crossing his ankles and leaning forward on his hip. He reaches forward, trying to entwine her hands in his, but she pulls back, allowing him to simply hook his pointer finger at her pinkie. She sighs and stares back at him. Will studies her face. There is no smudged eyeliner, no run mascara around her eyes. No wrinkles on her face. No stress grays in her hair. Still, she looks exhausted. Not for the first time, he feels a surge of guilt run through him, deep and confusing. This is what this world had made of Allie. This is what Will had helped shape her into.

This is what he had fallen for.

“That’s not fair,” Allie is shaking her head, lips curled in a sardonic smile. Will thinks for a second she’s read his mind, but she keeps talking. “You can’t look at me like that. Not right now. Not anymore.”

“What?” Will asks. “What am I doing?”

“Looking at me like I’m going to make it all better,” Allie snaps. “Looking like I’m just gonna get over it, and forgive you, and forgive all of them, and help them still. Why do I have to be the bigger person, here? Why do I have to sacrifice every part of me for people who don’t give a shit about me? Who only give a shit about themselves?”

“No one’s asking you to do that,” Will says, but Allie’s been keeping this all in for over a month, now, and no one is going to stop her now.

“That’s _exactly_ what you’re asking me to do,” Allie says. “What you’ve all been asking me to do, since Cassandra died. Because no one else could do it.”

“And the election was my fault too, I suppose,” Will frowns.

“The election was Campbell’s fault,” Allie says. “Because he took it from us. It was a good idea. I wanted to be wanted, Will. That’s all I ever wanted. If I was going to be in charge, I wanted people to ask me to do it. Now no one will ever want me to do that.”

“I want you.” Will asserts softly. Allie narrows her eyes at him.

“Bullshit.”

The word sits between them, heavy and looming. No matter what Will says, nothing seems to be right. It didn’t come out of his mouth right, and Allie didn’t hear it right. But he had learned through his whole life that intentions didn’t mean shit. If he couldn’t make Allie believe he cared for her through the things he said and did, it didn’t matter what he felt. Still, he can feel control over himself slipping through his fingers – control over his situation, over his emotions. It’s just all sliding away.

“I don’t want you to take charge again,” Will whispers. “I just want you to get some rest.”

“I can’t,” Allie says. “I can’t sleep, or sit still, or be happy, or anything, knowing what Campbell did, and knowing what he’s doing to the town. I wish I was never put in charge, I wish this all had never happened. I know too much.”

“I’m sure Grizz would know some good, wise quote about wishes. All I know if that wishing never gets anyone anywhere,” Will smiles. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twig of holly he had found on a walk along the edge of the field. He takes Allie’s hair in his hands, thrown back today in a haphazard side braid, and gently thumbs the stem into the twists. He sets it back down, and admires it. “You look pretty, Allie.”

“At least I have that,” Allie says, and then turns away from him. She gets up and leaves him there, walking the distance back to the fire.

.

“Fuck Campbell. Fuck Harry. Fuck Clark, fuck all of them,” Gordie mutters to himself, pacing quickly down the dark streets of New Ham. It’s after the unofficial curfew, but they’re not going to do anything to him. He has been in the clinic all night, treating people that came through the door for flu-like symptoms. Which, he is figuring out very quickly by reading his books, could mean literally anything.

He is so way in over his head. He’s running out of DayQuil, and Robetusin. If people start really going downhill, they only have a limited amount of rehydration drinks left. He thinks he could figure out the IV, now, if he tried. But he is so damn tired.

Gordie grunts in frustration, a ragged sound under his breath. He takes a minute to lean against a streetlamp. The snow is coming down now, steadily but softly, and it glistens under the glow of the fluorescent light. For moment, the lamp flickers, and the snow darkens, but then it comes back, lighting his way.

His way. Gordie has no idea what his way is anymore.

He can’t continue on like this, treating people for their coughs and sniffles from dawn to midnight. Only occasionally slinking home for the night, more often sleeping on infirmary cots with his water bottle in his hand. Maybe, if Kelly was still around, he could manage it. But he is alone, and he has Lexie and Campbell breathing down his neck. He’s pretty sure Harry doesn’t care – he’d probably catch the flu himself, if he could, and save himself all the trouble.

He slides a bit on the ice, and catches himself on a mailbox. Looking down at the ground, he realizes the bottom half of his right pant leg is stained with vomit.

“Great,” Gordie groans. He really needs to find some more scrubs to wear. He hasn’t had the time to do any laundry, and no one is going to help him out of the goodness in their hearts. Guess he would be wearing vomit pants back into the clinic tomorrow. Everyone could deal.

How was he not sick already? Must be all the exposure. He washes his hands as much as he can, but it’s not like everything is one hundred percent sterile. Brandon had projectile vomited onto the far wall the day before, and it hadn’t really all come out all that well.

He shakes his leg out, futilely hoping the stain will flake off in the snow or something, before he hears the bang of a door. He looks to his left, and sees Clark sauntering out of the next house down, hands in his pockets and a big grin on his face.

“Gordie,” Clark calls. “What are you doing out?”

Anger settles deep under Gordie’s sternum, where it’s been living for some time. “I’m going home. I just finished up at the clinic. You know, taking care of people?”

Clark regards this for a second before brushing it away. “Well make it snappy,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to report you for being out after curfew.”

“What curfew?” Gordie mutters to himself. It doesn’t reach Clark’s ears. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

“Hey,” Clark barks, and Gordie freezes. Clark’s hand is at his hip, a threatening gesture, and even though Gordie is pretty positive he doesn’t have a gun, he can’t be entirely sure. “Be careful how you speak to the Guard, runt.”

The anger in his chest morphs into something more akin to hatred. In times like this, he imagines the person speaking to him is the person that has talked down to him his entire life, the one that bullied his friends, who killed Cassandra. After seeing what Clark and the Guard did to Allie and Will, he doesn’t have to use too much of his imagination.

“Sure,” He says curtly, and continues walking. “My house is just a little farther. I’ll be on my way.”

“You do that,” Clark muses, but doesn’t move. He stands there, one hand on his hip and one in his pocket, as he watches Gordie walk down the street and around the corner. He does it all with the same smirk on his face. Some sick power trip.

Gordie rounds the corner, but he doesn’t stop at his house. He keeps walking down the street, fury painting the path in his steps. He passes his house and goes up the hill, past the gas station and around the bend to the bridge. He crosses it, paying no mind to the lack of streetlights. Right now, it’s a good cover.

He thinks about just leaving, right now. Despite only being dressed in his scrubs and winter coat, not even holding a knife or a flashlight. He’s not equipped, but he’s angry. Angry at working to help ungrateful patients, angry at not knowing what he’s doing, angry at being left behind when all his friends ran away. He understands why he had to stay, why Kelly and him couldn’t both leave New Ham. But it stings.

It’s why he keeps coming and almost walking into the woods. Almost, every time. For the past month, he’s had a logical reason to turn around, to let it go. Right now, he’s just pissed, and lonely.

He makes it farther than he ever has, about twenty yards into the underbrush. Enough for the faraway lights near the bridge and the gas station to feel subdued, like he’s stepped into yet another world. For a moment, he feels outrageously bold, like he could find the subtle clues Grizz has left along the way in the dark and find his friends, get away from the bullshit, and survive. Like that would all be crazily, ridiculously easy.

For a second, he laughs.

The sound continues after he’s run out of air, a continuation of the space behind his breastbone. A soft growling, mixed with the whistle of the wind. The snow falls straight down, a soft dusting coating his hair in equal gesture. Gordie feels goosebumps on the back of his forearms, on his calves, on his neck. He turns to face the sound, whipping around to see, because he’s sure he heard it. He calls out to it, but it’s swallowed by the wind. He hears it again, and turns toward the dark forest to confront his mother’s voice.

Gordie takes a step backward, eyes trained on the spot. He shivers, and then the moment is shattered. He’s not quite sure what he came here to accomplish, what he was so sure he could do. He realizes he is covered in snow, and shakes it off of his sleeves. It feels heavier than he remembers it, last year when he went out with his brothers during the snow day. Wiping tired eyes, he turns back to the road, and walks away from the empty forest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, welcome back! Thanks for all your kind comments on the first chapter, every word and kudos means so much to me and I'd love it if you could spare the time to share your thoughts with this one as well.
> 
> I'd like to make known some content warnings for this chapter, which I'll describe in greater detail in the end notes: content warning for threat of gun violence, depictions of sickness and vomit, and discussion/implication of suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**ii.**

**_“War is what happens when language fails. ”_ **

_– Margaret Atwood_

Grizz had made the choice to come out here in an instant.

There had been no choice. Walking back into town after their expedition, seeing what Campbell had turned it all into, it was insane. Grizz knows he’s pretty smart, but he didn’t think he was the only one of his friends with a moral compass, tilting situations right or dangerously wrong. He shouldn’t have given them so much credit, seeing as he had seemed to be the only one to know this was all _pretty fucking wrong._

Becoming runaways, fugitives, was less than planned, or ideal. In the end, Grizz feels like he didn’t contribute much at all, just a way back to the campsite. Gwen had been the one to distract Clark while Bean and Gordie released Allie and Will from where Campbell had been holding them. Mickey and Kelly had snuck into the cafeteria to grab extra provisions. Grizz had gone to the hospital, running through the halls until he found Sam, Becca, and the baby, and told them they had to leave.

And Sam had said no.

For the past month Grizz has been living with a baseball lodged in his throat, waiting for the day someone came back from reconnaissance with the news that Sam was dead, that they were all dead. That day had never come. Two and a half weeks after they had fled to the campsite, Sam, Becca, and Kelly had appeared at the tree line, a crumpled up map that Grizz had drawn in Sam’s hand.

Will had been pissed that Grizz had drawn a map, had left a paper trail that could have easily been discovered by Harry, or the Guard, if the three of them had been found. Grizz was just happy they were alive.

_What took you so long_ , he had asked.

_Kelly didn’t think Eden could survive so soon in the cold,_ Sam had said. _But they started to search the upper floors of the hospital. We had no choice._

Grizz thought he could find it in himself to be mad. To be selfish about Sam, and what he wanted. But then Sam had asked if he wanted to hold Eden. When he took the baby into his hands and looked down at her face, it was hard to feel selfish at all.

.

Sam paces back and forth, just beyond the fire. It seems to be his daily routine, now, since Becca and Eden left. He gets up, goes to the fire, watches the tree line, eats breakfast, then paces. He’s thinking so loudly that the whole campsite can hear him. Grizz watches him from his place on the fishing log, rod in his hand, dipped gently into the water. He’s not fishing. They don’t need fish, having stocked up and smoked them all in a mild panic before the snow began to fall. He sits there anyway, feeling the snow gently come down around him and watching the world fall into stillness.

He’s turned away from the campsite, watching the bobber on the line float up in down in time with snowflakes hitting and dissolving in the water. He almost doesn’t notice when Sam comes from behind, gently sitting on the other edge of the log. Grizz turns, and frowns when he sees the other boy. He’s curled into himself, hands underneath his armpits. He’s falling off the edge of the log like there’s four more people crowded on it.

“Are you cold?” Grizz asks. Sam doesn’t look up at him, so he leans forward to tap on his knee. Sam looks up, and Grizz puts down the fishing rod to repeat himself, pointing at Sam before spreading his right hand, bringing both fists in close to shake once. Sam snorts softly, looking at him for a moment before smiling.

“Close,” he remarks. “You’ve been practicing.”

Grizz can feel the blush creeping up his neck. He resists the urge to rub it away. He brings his thumb and pointer finger together, flicking his thumb twice against the skin. _A little bit._

Sam huffs and rolls his eyes at him. “Yes, I’m cold.”

Now Grizz is quickly getting out of his element. “Come closer, then.”

Sam frowns. “I didn’t think you would want me to.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d let you freeze,” Grizz says. “Come here.”

Sam scoots a little closer on the log, close enough that their knees are touching but not so close that Grizz can feel his body heat. Sam’s hair is coated in white snowflakes, mixing in with the dark auburn hues. The overcast sky darkens it, making it look almost brown, but it doesn’t make it any less beautiful to look at. Grizz is torn between brushing the snow away or leaving it there because it looks nice. Sam looks uncomfortable, though, so Grizz reaches out with a hand to smoothly brush the snow away. Sam tenses immediately, rigid through his shoulders, and Grizz assumes he made the wrong move, rapidly removing his hand. Sam drops his head.

“I talked to Becca, before she left,” Sam says, and looks up at Grizz.

“I would hope so.”

“No,” Sam shakes his head. “I talked to her about us.”

It’s Grizz’s turn to frown. “What about us.”

Sam sighs, straightening up a little. He looks nervous, like he stuck a fork into an electrical socket and is walking around with excess electricity. Grizz has seen some people pull that off, but on Sam, it just seems manic. “I love Eden with all my heart, and I will always be her dad. I promised Becca I would always be there for her, and her baby, to protect them, and care for them. But I’m not Eden’s father.”

Grizz’s brain short-circuits. It takes a few second for his thoughts to restart, and he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. More snow has piled on Sam’s head. “What?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “For someone so smart, you’re kind of dumb.”

Grizz stares at him. He doesn’t want to assume.

“Becca and I didn’t have sex,” Sam confesses. He looks down at the ground for a moment, digging his palm into his forehead in a gesture that seems like it hurts.

“Okay,” Grizz says. “Then who –”

“I don’t know,” Sam replies, eyes trained on Grizz’s lips. “She won’t tell me. But she didn’t want to be alone. So it’s me.”

Grizz doesn’t know quite what to say, so Sam continues. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be with someone and be open. I didn’t think I could find that here. Becca says that it’s okay if you know. That there are bigger fish to fry. Her and I aren’t going to get married, or anything. I’m just going to be Eden’s dad.”

Grizz nods, still not quite fully understanding. He gets that this is a big deal for Sam to admit, though, and appreciates that. “Right.”

Sam furrows his eyebrows. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I’m not sure what to say, or what to think. I thought this is what you wanted. I thought that maybe you wanted to hide,” Grizz says. “That she was, I don’t know, your beard, or something.”

“I can’t grow facial hair,” Sam smiles cheekily, winking at Grizz when he looks him in the eye.

Grizz shakes his head, suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of guilt, and confusion. “I don’t know, Sam.”

Sam reaches out to him, placing a gloved hand on his leg. They’re thin gloves, the kind made for walking on the sidewalk, not for living in the woods. Grizz wants to take off his own gear and put it on Sam, to warm him up, to keep him safe. “We don’t have to be alone, Grizz.”

“You’re not alone,” Grizz argues. He thinks of Becca, and the baby. Kelly, everyone. Sam has everyone, and Grizz has left everyone behind.

Sam smiles softly. “Neither are you.”

Sam’s treating Grizz like he’s something that’s breaking, like something that’s worthy of being held. He hadn’t realized that his eyes are getting wet, and stinging. He’s not sure if it’s the cold, or the beating of his heart against his chest.

“Sometimes I think,” Grizz runs a hand up on his forehead, hair splaying out in strands through his fingers. “I think, I dunno, god. I think that I should have just kept being who I was before. Not bothered you. I should’ve just stayed away.”

“That would have been lying,” Sam says. Haltingly. Gently.

Grizz regards him. “Yeah. It would have been.”

“You don’t need to decide anything now,” Sam says. “I wanted to tell you what I feel, and what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“I want you,” Sam asserts. He brings up his hand and brushes Grizz’s hair gingerly away from his face, tucking it under his beanie. His hand lingers there for moment, by his cheek. Sam’s nose is rosy in the chill air, his breath coming out in misty bursts. “I want Becca, and Eden, and for us all to be safe. A big house, with central heating. A stove.”

“Room for me in this house?” Grizz smiles. Sam’s thumb strokes his skin.

“I’m sure I can squeeze you in,” Sam shrugs. “We can share a bed. If you want.”

“Only makes sense,” Grizz agrees, nodding sagely. “Economical.”

“Would you want that?” Sam asks. “One day?”

Grizz pulls his lips to the side, looking at Sam’s freckles, the snow gathered on his coat, in his hair. He stands up, one hand reaching for the fishing pole and the other for Sam’s hand.

“You’re cold,” He says. “Come on.”

He holds out his hand and Sam takes it. Together they trek back through the snow, steadily having risen a few inches in the past day, and reach the circle of tents. Sam goes to break off back to his tent, but Grizz holds his grip on his hand. Sam turns back to him, eyes questioning. His gaze goes from their hands to Grizz’s face, back again.

“You’re cold,” Grizz repeats. His eyes flicker to his tent, just a few steps to the left. Sam follows his line of vision, and smiles. Grizz feels seldom control of his hands as he reaches out, dusting the snow off of Sam’s head and shoulders. His thumb lands gently on Sam’s cheek, his other fingers curled loosely around the back of his head. He feels transported, like the camp and the town are far away and don’t matter anymore. He feels gone.

Sam comes up close to him quickly, and then stops, his hands hovering an inch from Grizz’s face. He looks up at him, eyes a silent question, and Grizz meets him the rest of the way, leaning forward and slightly down. The kiss is fleeting, light as the snow, soft as the ground will be, and although it only lasts a few seconds Grizz comes up feeling as though much time has passed.

“You’ll keep me warm?” Sam asks. Grizz nods, and fumbles to open up the tent. They fall into it, sure to shed their outermost layers and boots to replace with sweaters and socks. They curl up under the sleeping bags, although it’s barely two in the afternoon. Everyone is inside, hearing the snow fall, wondering what it means. Grizz thinks signs can be both foreboding and foretelling, at the same time. A mixture of dread and hope.

Sam curls up against Grizz’s side, shivering slightly. Grizz places a hand between his shoulder blades, holds it there.

_Always_ , Grizz signs, holding up both of his pointer fingers and making a few big circles. He leans forward to press his lips to Sam’s hairline. He murmurs it again to himself, just for him to hear.

“What about Eden?” Sam’s voice is quiet, shaky. Grizz regards it. He’s had a month to regard it.

He pulls away again, just so Sam can see his lips. “I’ll take care of her, too.”

For a moment he’s sure Sam is going to cry but he doesn’t, just nods to himself and stays. Their feet meet under the covers, the collision soft and serendipitous. At some point, Grizz falls asleep, and Sam lets him.

.

The snow has been falling for five days.

Lexie watches it fall from the kitchen window, tracing a single snowflake as it drifts from the sky to join the pallid layer covering the ground. At first, the snowfall had been a dusting, and then for three days it had stormed; now, it seems to be petering out. She can actually see the houses across the street, rather than a blank sheet of white.

“We’ll be able to plow soon,” She muses, tilting her head to the side. Her arms are crossed tightly across her body. She notices it and tries to stop. The position has been a stress habit, and she doesn’t want to develop those. It just reminds her of her mom. Absentmindedly, she rubs her sore shoulders.

“With what?” Jason asks. He looks worse for wear. His eyes hang with dark shadows, rimmed with red. Lexie is eighty percent sure there’s a booger hanging from his nose. To prove her point, he sniffles, deep and revolting. “We don’t have those pickup trucks with the. You know.”

“Plows.” Clark supplies, cheerily, like he’s being helpful. Jason nods, his eyes glassy.

“We’ll have to clear the sidewalks, if not the roads,” She says. “We need people to be able to get to the church, and the cafeteria.”

“Why?” Clark asks. “I’d just as soon stay home.”

“We talked about this,” Lexie snaps, impatient. “We need people to show up to meetings, and we haven’t distributed home rations. Everyone was just surviving the past few days on whatever they had.”

“Yeah, okay,” Luke mediates. His eyes are darkened, too, but not in the same way as Jason. Luke looks like he’s lost a lot of sleep, but Jason looks like he’s never had any. Lexie places a seventy percent probability he falls asleep during the meeting, fifty percent he just collapses. ”But still. We have all the shovels we could find in the hardware store, but it’s not going to be enough with just us.”

“So we’ll use snowblowers,” Lexie says. “Just get them from your garages.”

Luke rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if we have one. My dad always just hired someone to do it.”

“Same,” Clark says.

Lexie lets the comments slide. Her mom has three.

“We’ll make snow blowing and cooking the only mandatory work shifts,” Lexie says. “That way not everyone will be working all the time, and they can stay home and drink hot cocoa, fuck, whatever they want to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s voice breaks through her train of thought. “But why did we have to have this at my house, again?”

If Luke and Jason look exhausted, Harry looks wired. There’s a slight tremor to his hands, a mania in his eyes. His clothes are rumpled, soft pajama bottoms with an old grey t-shirt and a fluffy robe. At least the rest of them bothered to put on real clothes. Lexie wonders what she looks like, if the rest of them look like frozen shit run over.

“You have the nicest house, dude,” Jason mumbles.

“Yeah, and it’s cozy in here,” Clark adds. “My room is freezing my balls off.”

Lexie’s mom owns seven space heaters, and four of them are situated in precise spots in her room. That, combined with the three weighted blankets she’d found, she’s been sweating her ass off every night since December.

“Your room isn’t freezing your balls off,” Luke rolls his eyes. “You’re freezing your balls off, in your room.”

“You really wanna correct my grammar right now, Lukey?”

“I just,” Harry blinks so hard it looks like it hurts. “I never agreed to, I don’t want –”

“When are we going to look for the outlaws?” Campbell asks, his voice sudden and cutting. It’s only this that gets Lexie to turn away from the window and stop watching the snow. Campbell is the only one in this godforsaken town Lexie will look in the eye when he says so. She hates that he’s done nothing to her, and that she’s so afraid.

“When we clear the snow,” Lexie says patiently. “And quiet the town’s concerns, we can use our energy to track down the fugitives.”

“What about the flu?” Clark asks. “Half our task force is in bed with the sniffles.”

“It’s not even a fucking task force,” Luke breathes a harsh sigh. “It’s just the losers from hiking club.”

“Dude, I was in hiking club,” Jason says, offended.

Clark scrunches his nose. “I thought you just did that to get in Erica’s pants.”

“Whatever.”

“Look,” Harry chimes in, coming out of his position leaning on the counter. “We, we don’t even need to waste time looking for those losers, right? They’re probably all fucking dead anyway, now, living out in the cold for this long.”

“Idiots probably starved by now,” Clark agrees, nodding.

“Or,” Campbell smiles. It’s fucking unnerving. “They’re better at surviving than you morons give them credit for, and they’ll be back to fuck things up sooner rather than later.”

“If they are out there, they’ll be angry,” Lexie says. “Worse, they’ll have had time to think.”

“I miss Grizz,” Jason moans, his forehead smacked down fully on the countertop. “He made good soup.”

Luke sighs. “Jason, bro, you need a nap.”

“I’m just saying,” Campbell says, ignoring everyone else and looking Lexie in the eye. “I think it should be a priority.”

Lexie meets his gaze, holding the tension for several seconds. She must make it long enough to pass some sort of test, because Campbell breaks out in a grin. He nods to her, and straightens, stuffing his hands into his pockets. She turns back to the window, watching the last of the snowflakes fall.

“Noted.”

.

The grocery stores have been picked clean, looted in the echo of Lexie and Harry crying _fend for yourselves_ being taken directly to heart. The only things on the shelves are the things people couldn’t think to want – jars of tomato sauce, canned anchovies, gluten free rice cakes. Even those are slim pickings. And still, covered in snow and sweat, a living juxtaposition, Luke shivers through the front doors, intent on finding a fucking snack.

He could go home, but then he’d have to explain to Helena where he’s been, snow blowing the sidewalks from Harry’s house to the church. Not to the cafeteria. Not to the hospital. Just Harry’s one path he takes. When he had finished the job, Harry hadn’t even looked him in the eye. There had been no thank you, no _stay, Luke, reward yourself with a cup of hot cocoa_. He had just curled in over on himself, tapping his head with the back of his hand. Luke still questions him when he does things like this, still tries to be in the realm of something one could consider a friend, but Harry always waves him off, saying he’s thinking.

Luke’s been thinking an awful lot, too. Looking at the bare shelves of the store, he’s thinking they’ve all royally fucked themselves up the ass, four times over.

Allie had been right (but he knew that, already) – what Harry had said during the elections had sounded good and all, until people took a moment to realize that this sort of mentality took a short-term solution and made it extremely, painfully brief. Luke knows most of the food is locked in the cafeteria, still trying to maintain some sort of order until the end, but the rest has been spread unevenly throughout people’s homes. The Guard and the Council (one in the same, at this point. Gretchen hasn’t been in since the snow started, since she got sick) got the most food, and then everyone else picked through what remained. And fuck, Luke knows it’s wrong and messed up, but he isn’t about to give any of his stash away. Not until he needs to.

Yet, here he is, dripping in the middle of aisle 4, wishing desperately to find a wayward Snickers bar.

He’s got candy bars at home. He’s got hot cocoa at home, he’s got frozen tv dinners and a bed and a fiancé, but damn him if in this moment, none of it feels like enough. He groans low, in the back of his throat, and trudges through the aisles, frowning at a moldy head of lettuce in the middle of the soda aisle but doing nothing to pick it up. Finally, _finally_ he finds a half-open, discarded package of Keebler elf cookies. They’re not even remotely the good kind, but Luke doesn’t give a rat’s ass anymore. He eats four in ten seconds, and then closes the package, thinking he’ll go to the church and hang out there before heading home.

He’s content to leave the store with his sad, pathetic bounty, already moving to the door, when he hears the sound of a soft package falling to the floor. It’s followed by an equally soft curse, and Luke freezes. His hand twitches at his side, where his gun now lies, but that’s ridiculous. Who is he gonna shoot, someone who came into the store for the exact reason he did? He treads lightly back down the hall, toward aisle 15. When he gets there he pauses, and listens to the person breathe. They’re hiding, standing very still. Luke knows from experience that’s a sign of guilt, and fear.

He rounds the corner swiftly just to find his face inches away from a massive kitchen knife. His gun is up in an instant, fumbling only slightly in his hands, as he backs away.

“Whoa, whoa!” he cries. “Drop it! Jesus, shit, drop the knife!”

“You first!” The person cries, and – holy shit, Kelly?

“Kelly?” Luke asks, voice raspy. He lowers the gun, squinting like he’s not quite seeing things right. Kelly’s face is pale and terrified, the muscles in her neck practically bulging out, she’s so tense. “It is you.”

“Fuck,” Kelly replies, taking a step back and drawing back the knife. There are fallen packages of diapers all behind her, and Luke can see even more peeking out of her overflowing bag. If there’s one thing that wasn’t taken in great abundance, it’s that. “Luke. Fuck, you, why are you here?”

“Wanted a snack,” Luke shakes his package of cookies lightly, one hand still on his gun. He realizes the safety is still on, but makes no move to correct his error. “What about you?”

“I, uh,” Kelly looks at the diapers on the ground. In the hand not holding the knife is frankly the biggest package of powdered baby formula Luke has ever seen. “No one was in here, the place is picked dry. _Fuck_.”

She’s sweating. With a start, Luke realizes that Kelly is one hundred percent terrified for her life, and she’s terrified of _him_. He takes the gun and shoves it back into his holster (Helena makes him wear a holster. She’s got at least four). He reaches behind him and places his package of cookies on a discarded cart, holding both hands up in a placating gesture. Kelly’s posture doesn’t relax even a little bit. If anything, she looks more stressed.

“Hey,” Luke says. “You’re okay.”

Kelly huffs out a breath, disbelieving. “No, this is not fucking okay.”

“Okay,” Luke nods. “You’re probably right. Kelly, you’re wanted for like, treason or something.”

“Treason?” Kelly laughs. “Is that Campbell’s word, or Harry’s?”

“I think Lexie technically used it first,” Luke says. “Harry won’t let anything happen to you, though. He’s gonna be so relieved you’re back, and not dead in the woods. How’s Grizz?”

“No, no, Harry cannot know I’m here,” Kelly says, her hands firm by her side. Luke’s pretty sure he’d be shaking in his boots, if he were her. Kelly’s smart enough to be able to imagine what Campbell might do to her if Harry’s not in the room. “No one can know I’m here. I’m – I’m not even here, I’m leaving, I just came for – fuck.”

“Diapers,” Luke mutters, looking at her overflowing bag. “And baby things.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Kelly looks behind her, but there’s no exit that way. She’d have to run too far.

Luke’s eyes brighten. “Becca’s here, too.”

“No, no she isn’t, it’s just me, okay? She’s away, with the others –“

“No she isn’t,” Luke shakes his head. “The storm came, there’s no way she could have stayed out in that. Because it’s true, she actually had a baby.”

“What, you didn’t believe it?” Kelly snaps. Her eyes are manic, searching around for escape like a caged animal.

Luke shrugs, surprised at how calm he feels. “Never saw any proof. Could never find you guys, just disappeared.”

“You didn’t look hard enough,” Kelly says.

A darkness falls over Luke’s mood, looking at Kelly’s haggard form. He thinks about Campbell’s attitude toward all the outlaws, the way everyone had quietly conceded to his will. He thinks about the rumors that Sam Eliot fathered Becca’s child, the way Campbell had laughed when Jason read the text aloud. The layers, behind his eyes.

“You need to go,” Luke says, and Kelly blinks at him. “It isn’t safe here. Wherever you were, you need to go back there. Now.”

“What –” Kelly takes another step back from him. “What do you mean, Luke?”

“They’re looking for you,” Luke stresses. “Or, they’re going to. Once the roads are clear. You guys are priority number one.”

“And what about you?” Kelly asks. “Aren’t you part of the Guard? Why haven’t you arrested me, or shot me?”

Something twists in Luke’s chest with the way she says it, like she had truly expected it to happen already. He drags a hand across his mouth. “Because. Because, I don’t know, fuck, Kelly, you didn’t break any laws. There are no laws.”

“Except for whatever Harry or Lexie say.”

“No, whatever Campbell says,” Luke hisses. “He’s running the whole goddamn show. Lexie’s helping, a little bit, but she’s way in over her head. He writes the laws, she signs them into effect. I – they’re gonna hunt you down. He’s pissed.”

Kelly stares at him. “Are you going to tell him?”

Luke frowns. “No. I don’t know.”

“You can’t tell him.” Kelly demands. “There’s a baby, and a mother’s life at stake.”

“How are things out there?” Luke asks. “How’s Grizz? Where did you go? The farm? Where is it?”

“You don’t get to ask those kinds of questions, Luke,” Kelly replies lowly. Her right hand is gripped around the strap of her backpack. One foot is half a step back. A coiled spring, ready to run.

“What about Allie, Will?” Luke presses anyway. Kelly simply stares at him. He runs a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. His hair is greasy, pressed to his forehead. He needs to bathe, and sleep. Kelly does, too. “Fuck. This is so fucked up.”

Kelly doesn’t say anything more. Luke knows she has nothing to say to him. Her eyes keep flitting between him and the door, and finally he takes pity on her, the decision weighing him down like a morning after heavy drinking, counting bricks in all his coat pockets. With a sigh, he gestures to the door, jerking his head. He turns slightly to pick up his package of cookies. By the time he tuns back around, Kelly has sprinted to the exit, the door slamming back behind her as she flees.

Luke sighs again, and then groans, leaning against an empty shelf with his arm. He idles, shifting from foot to foot, and eats another cookie out of the package. They’re so fucking stale. He meanders to the door, and when he gets outside, there’s no one in sight. He scans the snow for signs of footprints, but sees nothing. He wishes this whole situation was just a dream – maybe then he wouldn’t feel so screwed.

He was planning on going to the church, but that feels empty now. He just goes home. Helena is sitting on their bed, reading a book and sipping a cup of tea, bundled under several blankets. Luke can tell just by looking that it’s already tepid – she always makes tea and then forgets about it while she reads. The intimacy of this thought clutches at his chest, and suddenly he can’t stand to lay with her on the bed. He falls into the chair at the corner of the room instead, covering his eyes with his hand and breathing.

“How was the meeting?” Helena asks, not looking up from the book. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until later.”

“It was brief,” Luke replies. He draws out the silence, unsure of how to proceed. He hates this, he hates being uncertain around Helena. He was only ever comfortable, before. “When the snow clears, Campbell wants to put a price on the heads of the outlaws, the ones that ran away into the woods. He wants to make their treason punishable by death.”

Helena slams her book down on her lap. “That’s barbaric. They’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t punish disagreement with death.”

“They aided in the escape of criminals,” Luke deadpans. All of his words are so empty. “They didn’t just run away, they took Allie and Will with them.”

“Well, I’m still not convinced they did anything wrong, either.” Helena’s tone is accusatory. He finds it often is, now. Either that, or he’s just projecting.

He lets the silence sit again, long enough that Helena remembers her tea, and goes back to her book again. He stares at the wall, tracing the patterns in the trim of the doorframe.

“I saw Kelly today,” He says, tone flat. Helena looks at him again, eyes stormy.

“Kelly? She’s alive?”

“They’re all alive,” Luke says. “Her, Becca, the baby, everyone else. I think. She didn’t say much.”

“Did you tell Harry?” She questions, coming forward to prop herself up on her hand. She’s searching him with her eyes, looking for any clue. He can’t bring himself to tell her that she’s not going to find anything in him that way. He’s been trying, and nothing has worked. He figures at this point, most of it is lost. “What did you do?”

Most of it, but not this. “I let her go.”

Helena stares at him for a long time. He latches on to the doorframe, to the cookies, to the image of Kelly standing there and his feeling of fear. When he finally looks back at her, she’s smiling.

.

This isn’t the first time Allie has heard Cassandra’s voice, after she died. It’s the first time she’s heard it while she’s alone, though. And it’s never been so clear.

The whispers started when she breached the far tree line of the field, taking a walk by herself and relishing in the moments she had alone before someone freaks out and runs to find her. The forest is quiet, the only sounds being of birds fluttering on high branches and the crunch of her own feet in the snow. She takes a moment to just breathe, letting the frigid air fill her lungs, watching as it escapes her body in misty plumes. When Cassandra speaks, it’s not like when Allie normally hears her – imagining her arguing with the inhumane, immoral rhetoric the boys sometimes spouted, soothing her when she got overwhelmed speaking in front of the whole town, conceding with she made a decision that was the opposite of what her sister would have done. It’s soft, not constructed, not fabricated based on memory. It’s gentle, and entirely too real.

Allie glances behind her. She can still see the tents if she squints hard enough, can definitely see the platform with its vertical support beams, spaced out equally in a narrow rectangle. No one has followed her. She had snuck away when Will had fallen asleep, having stroked her hair in the night when she had awoken from a nightmare. She’s grateful, but at the same time she hates him for it. She knows what it’ll do to him if he wakes up and she’s not there, isn’t anywhere in the camp, but she doesn’t care. She needs a goddamn minute alone.

Cassandra’s voice flickers in her ear again. Allie supposes she can’t even get that.

She climbs up an incline, traveling away from the camp and farther still away from New Ham. Maybe, if she walks far enough, she’ll stumble right back into the world they came from, with her parents waiting, arms open. Then she’d tell them about all the things they did, she did, all the things they had to do. She’d tell them about Cassandra, about Dewey. The thought clogs her throat, makes it hard to breathe. She slips in the snow and catches herself on the side of a thin maple tree. Maybe, if she walks far enough, she’ll just topple off the edge of this world. Down, into a darkness. Like when she sleeps, and has no dreams. Then she’d never have to explain anything to anyone. Only to herself.

And Cassandra.

She reaches the top of the incline, the ground leveling out and becoming firm under her boots. She shivers, rubbing at the sides of her arms vigorously. When she turns, she can barely see the field anymore. She supposes she should feel afraid, but only relief washes through her. What a thing it is, to be unseen. Unwitnessed. She throws her arms out to the side, spinning in a circle. Jumps once, for good measure. Allie bends over, hands on her knees, and tries to scream. All that comes out is a ragged breath, a grating, keening sound that barely makes any noise. None of the birds fly away. She bends her knees, squatting down, and hugs her head. Not unheard.

Ahead, there is a paper birch tree, stark white as though emerging from the snow. It’s at least ten feet away from all the other trees, despite the foliage being relatively thick. She stumbles toward it like it’s a beacon, suddenly overcome with weight, and sits at the base. Her head falls back against the bark too harshly, and she feels some of it flake off into her hair. She had neglected to wear a hat, only wearing her thin gloves. She hates the thick mittens Will tries to get her to wear, hates even more that she did not wear them. She balls her fists and rubs them against her thighs, cursing under her breath. Of course she couldn’t walk away like this. Of course there’s no end, no edge to fall off of. Her life consists of falling from ledge to ledge, and never reaching a bottom. Every time she looks, there’s another way down.

_You’re looking in the wrong direction_ , Cassandra says, and tears prick at the edges of Allie’s eyes. She shakes her head and lets it crash into her knees, folding over and raising her arms to hold herself in place. She’s shivering, hard, full-body tremors that’s moving the snow beneath her. She starts to choke on a breath, and then another, but reigns it in, breathing deeply. It doesn’t stop her heartbeat from racing, hitting the walls of her chest like thunder. It’s so strong, her heartbeat has always been steady and strong and there, and she hates it. She takes it all back, this is what she hates more than anything: that her heart is beating, and that Cassandra’s is not. That hers always worked, and hers did not.

_You’ll hurt your neck that way_ , Cassandra soothes, and fuck if Allie can’t feel her, her small hand on the back of her spine, rubbing in gentle circles. The wind blows with a promise of _here_ , but she doesn’t believe it, doesn’t look up. She lets her chest rack with empty sobs, her shoulders buckle and break, and thinks it ironic, noting the force of her body, that this is her power. She knocks her head against her knees, gentle with self-restraint despite how little she feels. With her eyes clenched closed, all she can see is the dark, sharp fireworks of phosphenes sparking across the black landscape. The sound swims around her, but she can feel the wind. It bites at her cheek, but she does nothing to mollify it. Her hand plunges into the snow, desperate for something to grip, and pushes Cassandra away. If there’s one thing she’d good at, it’s this. This isolation. She can do it forever, if she has to. She’s starting to think now that she might.

_Allie_ , Cassandra says, and now Allie screams, head flying up as she chokes on her own short sound. Her eyes are wet, and they sting in the cold. Everything slides back into place abruptly as she breathes, and Cassandra’s voice dissipates with the wind. Everything is so still. Everything is so still, despite the turmoil, the mania Allie feels inside her body, like something attempting to break free. As she breathes, she thinks that maybe a little of it is gone. A little of it released, and it shocked the world into this stillness. A fear of moving, an aftershock of change.

She gets to her feet, using the tree as support. More of its bark comes away in her hands, and she lets it drift onto the ground, disguising itself in the blanket of white. Trembling, she shakes out her arms, rights her shoulders. She blinks, controlled and deliberate. Stepping away from the tree is much harder than going to it was, but she knows she can’t stay out here like this. She has no concept of how much time has passed – it stretches out thin, like a band about to snap, and she’s simply used to the tension. She has to go back, eat bits of fish and stolen funyuns with her ragtag group of runaways, because she did this. She is responsible for this misery, at least in some regard, and there’s no running away from that. There’s no wandering off to be alone.

There’s no being alone at all.

The footprints are large, the stride longer than hers, but undeniably human. Allie thinks for a minute that maybe Grizz had been out by himself, but then thinks of how she’s only ever seen him at the platform, the tents, or the fire ever since the snow stopped falling. She wanders closer to the trail of prints, stark against the snow but at the same time easy to pass over. She crouches down next to a pair, wiping at her frozen nose with the back of her glove. She just smears more icy cold on it, and frowns. The footprint is smaller than hers, smaller than Bean’s, she thinks, and she’s small. The shape of it is of a human foot, not an animal, but it’s narrow, like a footprint in the sand on the beach. Where the toes should be, it is rounded, and there’s no tread like Allie knows all their boots leave behind. Something deep begins to settle at the base of her sternum, behind her lungs, and she shakes out a breath. She stands, looking behind her, at the tree. Above where she had been sitting, up only maybe eight feet, is a sturdy branch, jutting out. There are plenty of bushes around, with tendrils wrapping around their twigs like sturdy vines, and Allie knows she would have been able to reach the branch. Would have been able to climb up, and topple off the edge.

“Allie!” A voice screams, and she jerks out of her thought, looking down the hill. She doesn’t see any movement, but she knows that she heard a voice, a real voice. She looks behind her, just to make sure, and then abandons the birch tree, stomping toward the decline. She steps lightly, trying to catch levels and divots, catching herself on limbs and branches. She slides near the bottom, falling onto her back and gliding through the snow. She stands, looking back at where she had fallen; the snow is displaced, showing a stark flash of brown and pale green that has Allie crinkling up her nose. As if she hadn’t seen grass over a week ago. She has already gotten used to the change.

The voice calls her name again, and Allie has the thought to realize that it’s two voices calling for her, Will and Grizz. She trudges through the snow, making her way back toward the tree line. When she emerges, she raises her hand for them to see. They’re standing by the pond, two dark figures against the pale landscape, the shorter silhouette frozen with their hands on their head. She shouts, and they turn toward her, coming through the snow as she makes her way to them. Allie’s confused by the sheer relief she feels – part of her thinks that she could have come back to see the camp gone, having stepped into yet another universe. Part of her thinks that if she had listened to what Cassandra’s voice had to say, she wouldn’t feel the same way.

Finally, the three of them get close enough to meet. Allie’s quads are burning, lungs heaving, half effort and half fear. Will runs up to her, gloved hands hovering like he wants to hug her, not quite touching. He settles for placing his hands around her shoulders, squeezing tight.

“Jesus, Allie,” he says. “You can’t – fuck, don’t go off like that. You scared the crap out of me.”

“Scared the crap out of us, with all his shouting,” Grizz mumbles. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Allie shakes off Will’s hands. “Listen.”

“What did you think I would think when I woke up?” Will demands. “There’s a million things that could have happened to you. What if someone from town had found you? What if they had taken you again?”

Grizz is only looking at Allie’s face, troubled and frozen. “Will, calm down.”

“Relax,” Allie takes a step back. “I need you both to fucking listen to me. There’s something out there, in the woods.”

Will blinks at her, uncomprehending. Grizz only stares, and Allie thinks of the conversation they had, before he left for that second expedition. _You haven’t seen what I’ve seen_.

“What do you mean?” Will asks. He wipes his mouth with his glove, then the backs of his eyes. Allie will feel bad about that later.

“I found footprints,” Allie says. “They’re none of ours. And I heard something. Guys, I – I don’t think we’re alone out here.”

.

Gordie’s right eye is twitching. There’s a line out the door of the clinic, people are complaining, and he has no more NyQuil. If he did, he thinks he’d chug it all just to finally get some fucking sleep and get away from these monsters.

“Gordie, Carla puked over the side of the bed,” a kid complains, pulling at his jacket. “It reeks.”

“Okay,” Gordie pushes him off, walking briskly toward another bay, thermometer in hand. “Give me a minute.”

“But it smells so bad –”

“Do me a favor,” Gordie wheels around on the kid, glaring. His eye twitches again, and the kid physically recoils. “And grab a mop. If you don’t know how to use it, that’s on you. Clean it up yourself.”

He turns around before the kid can respond, and walks away. He marches straight to another occupied bed, shoving the thermometer into the mouth of a junior he barely recognizes. They’re moaning, and he has to snap at them to keep their mouth shut. The thermometer beeps, and he holds it up to eye level: 101 degrees Fahrenheit. Gordie takes note of the junior’s name, temperature, and other symptoms before depositing the cover on the thermometer, putting on hand sanitizer, and making his way to the next person.

If the flu had been getting bad before the snow, the storm really set it the fuck off. Everyone was allowed to go back to their own houses now, as per Lexie and Harry’s rules, but it was cold, and people were bored. Houses had been full of people, for parties or sex or other social engagements, and then the snow had effectively trapped them all inside for a few days. It was an ideal breeding ground for a virulent epidemic, especially considering the hygiene some of these assholes kept, and Gordie isn’t surprised that now it seems like half the town is sick in some capacity. Some people are just coming in with the sniffles, asking for cough drops, and others have fevers high enough that Gordie is putting whatever cold compresses he can spare in their armpits, making them hydrate the best he can. No matter what, if they’re sick, they’re coming to him. He had fought tooth and nail for it, but all the medicine that had been in stores was now in the hospital, in a room only Gordie (and Kelly) has a key to. He supposes he just complained enough that Lexie and Campbell had let him have his way. They’re probably regretting it now. Gordie’s seen how many headaches Lexie gets.

Someone calls for him from across the clinic; two bays down, a girl is crying that she wants her mom. He’s on the verge of panic. He hasn’t run out of supplies yet, but he’s depleted quite a lot, and it’s not like they’re getting any new shipments in soon. He can’t waste it all right now, because this won’t be the first time people get sick. But he can’t turn people away, and he has no other alternative. He doesn’t even have anyone to help him. Sending the less symptomatic people away with a prescription to sleep and drink tea isn’t exactly doing it for a lot of them. There’s a few people that are bad enough that they need more attention, but he can’t give it to them, because there’s just too many people coming in. He still has a line out the door.

Another person calls his name. He can’t see who it is, so he ignores them. He’s trying to focus on fevers, since his textbook says that fever and hydration are the most important parts of viral infection management. He keeps asking everyone what color their pee is, and everyone’s balking at him in response, but it’s the best he’s got. The people with the highest fevers are getting Pedialyte, the others small cups of Powerade and lots of water. He hasn’t had to put in an IV yet today. Gretchen had needed one overnight, before the storm.

Not for the first time, he wonders where this virus came from, who was patient zero. Not for the first time, he wonders if his friends out in the woods have caught it, if Kelly’s taking care of it. If they’re even still alive.

A girl comes up to tell him that someone else has puked in their bed, all over the linens. Gordie knows he has to clean this up, to contain it, before the whole place smells like vomit, but he’s run out of buckets. No one from the Guard has come by to check on him, so he has no way of asking for more from the hardware store, if there even are any. He thinks there has to be – who would loot buckets? The boy whose temperature he’s taking only has a fever of 99 degrees. He gives him a cup of Powerade and walks away.

“Hey!” The boy argues. “This is all I get?”

“I’m triaging,” Gordie replies, flipping through his notes. Someone had a fever of 103; who was that? He needs to check on them. “Drink that, and more water. I’ll get back to you.”

The boy grumbles, and Gordie ignores it, going back to his small desk he’s calling his home station. He takes off his gloves, dropping his face mask for a moment and running his hands down his face. He’s so fucking stressed. He’s been stressed now for the better part of nine months, but this is testing him. He thought preparing for the SATs was bad, but this is a whole new level. People are puking, but he doesn’t want to get rid of all the anti-nausea medication. He doesn’t know how to bring peoples’ fevers down without depleting his supplies, he doesn’t know how to fix this. He is out of limes and ginger ale. He is so out of his goddamn league.

He hears it before he sees it, the sound of argument and discontent coming from the hall. He turns to see the line out the door shifting, a deep voice shouting for people to part the seas. The people leaning on the wall at the front of the line move out of the way, and Gordie sees a mop of dark brown hair come through. Jason’s head is hanging down so his face is obscured, feet kicking feebly as his whole weight is supported on either side by Clark and Shoe. They burst through the doorway, pausing in the threshold until Clark’s eyes meet Gordie’s. Behind them, Campbell walks in. His hands stay in the pockets of his jacket as he looks around at the horrible scenes of the clinic, looking astoundingly bored and unbothered.

“Gordie!” Shoe cries, meeting his gaze. He’s panting. Gordie can’t blame him – Jason looks really heavy. “You gotta help, dude.”

“What happened to him?” Gordie asks, coming closer to the group. Clark gestures to Jason with his free hand. He’s half sure that Jason’s drooling onto the floor. He smells awful.

“He’s sick,” Clark says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the whole world. To his credit, it kind of is.

“I just saw you guys yesterday,” Gordie argues. “He was fine.”

“And now he’s not fine,” Clark retorts.

“He’s been out of it for a few days,” Shoe says. “But today he got real hot, and started barfing all over the place.”

Gordie just stares at them, and he’s realizing that his brain is a little fried. Jason moans, shifting with discomfort. There are still people calling for him from all corners of the clinic, bothered and miserable. In his jacket pocket is the last bottle of acetaminophin Gordie told himself he would use for this outbreak, but there’s nothing else to use. Campbell steps forward, brushing someone aside.

“Jason’s not in a great spot right now, as you can see,” He says, making pointed eye contact. “You can help him out, though, right doc?”

Gordie blinks. All of the beds are full. He looks behind the boys to the line outside the door, thinking. No one is in as rough of a spot as Jason seems to be, but these people have been waiting hours. Some of the kids just won’t leave, rolling around on their bed holding ice packs to their faces. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them all that they can do this at home, that he can’t – won’t – help them any further.

His indecision must take a second too long, because Campbell rolls his eyes and pushes forward. He walks to the first clean bed not covered in vomit and smiles at its occupant, flinging back the sheets and ordering them to get out. The girl scampers off quickly, moving with her friend to a chair beside Gordie’s work desk. Campbell juts his head and the Guard brings Jason over, flopping him onto the bedspread unceremoniously. Jason curses, curling his arms around his midsection and making a whining noise under his breath. His hair is stringy, falling in damp clumps onto the flat pillow. Gordie curses under his breath, spitting out a quick apology to the displaced girls, and then grabs his thermometer and notebook.

Jason’s hot to the touch, saturated with sweat and verbally uncomfortable. Gordie jams the thermometer under his tongue, holding his lolling head still with a steady grip of his hand. He places Jason’s head back down on the pillow, who curses and rolls around weakly.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Campbell asks, leaning against the wall. Shoe wipes his hands on his jeans, looking nervous to even be there. On the other side of the room, someone is crying.

“He’s got a fever of 103,” Gordie replies, disposing of the thermometer cover. “What’d you guys do, let him play in the snow fort too long?”

“This isn’t a fucking joke,” Clark says, and Gordie sends him daggers in his glare. He gestures to the bays full of sick people.

“You don’t think I fucking know that?” He spits. He’s tired. God, he’s so fucking tired.

“Well?” Campbell waves at Jason’s writhing form. “What are you going to do for him?”

“Where am I?” Jason mutters, wiping at his face. “Fuck. Where did I go?”

Gordie frowns. “I’m going to get him some water, and then I’m going to check on the other patients.”

“Water?” Clark’s eyebrows are nearly obscuring his irises with how furrowed they are. “What’s fucking water gonna do?”

“I’m going to have to request you treat our man Jason here now,” Campbell says. “You know, lots of things to do. Busy busy.”

“There are other people I have to take care of first,” Gordie snaps. “Who have been waiting for much longer, and are just as sick.”

“Come on, dude, look at him.” Shoe actually steps away from Jason, who looks very pale.

“I’ll get a bucket of water,” Gordie says. “You can wipe him down, it’ll bring down his temperature.”

“Don’t you have any pills or anything?” Clark asks, or more demands. “Something for the fever, to make him stop yakking.”

“We’re running low,” Gordie explains. “I can’t just give them to him because he wants them.”

“What about antibiotics?”

Gordie runs his hands through his hair. Someone calls for him again. He doesn’t have the time. He’s wasting so much time.

“I can’t give people antibiotics because I don’t know what’s causing this!” He waves his hands around, voice rising. It’s threatening to break, but he manages to keep it level. “Antibiotics are going to do jack shit if everyone has a virus. If it’s just the flu, I’m not going to waste resources fighting the wrong thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” Clark says.

“Come on, man,” Campbell shrugs. “Just give him something. Put an IV in, give him fluids, I know you can do that, right?”

The bottle of pills feels heavy in his pocket. “No, I can’t.”

“Is this some sort of political protest, or something?” Clark asks.

“What do you think it is, Clark?” Gordie tosses back. “We’re living in a world with limited resources, okay, we’re operating under fucking mercantilism, and you want me to give him antibiotics just because he’s hot and has a tummy ache.”

“This is ridiculous,” Clark huffs. “Fucking malpractice, man. Just admit that you won’t treat him because he’s part of the Council, and you don’t agree with what we have to say.”

“That’s not true!” Gordie looks around for someone to back him up, but no one has any courage. Everyone brave is gone. “Jesus, who do you think I am?”

“A fucking fraud.”

“I’m doing the best I can!”

Right then, Campbell shifts himself off the wall, frowning. He says “yeah, okay”, and aims a pistol at Gordie’s face.

At least twenty people scream, ducking out of the way. Gordie stares straight at the barrel of the gun, his jaw twitching as it clenches and unclenches. He hears the thud of bodies falling to the ground, but he can’t look to see if someone fainted, or was just taking cover. His hands want to move at his sides, but he keeps them still. Really, he’s not fucking surprised.

“Think you’re a big man, Campbell?” He asks, voice low. “Being the only guy in a hospital wing with a gun?”

“Actually, he’s not,” Clark says, and pulls out his own pistol, leveled at the side of Gordie’s head. Shoe doesn’t draw a weapon, but his hand goes to his hip, one leg back in a ready stance. Gordie sighs, but doesn’t even spare a glance toward him. His eyes are locked with Campbell’s.

“Fuck off, Clark.”

Campbell takes a step closer to him, his hand steady and unmoving. The aim of the gun doesn’t falter even for a second. Campbell continues to stare at him for a moment, the entire room silent and taught with tension, and then suddenly laughs, smile spreading wide.

“It’s okay,” He says, gesturing calmly with his other hand. “It’s okay, really. You didn’t know.”

He’s quiet, and Gordie realizes he’s waiting for him to reply. To contribute. “Didn’t know what?”

“Who’s in charge here,” Campbell shrugs, posture loose. “You’ve been alone in here so long, running the show, you were bound to get the wrong idea. But you see, doc, the doctors of the world, the academics, they’re not the people that are in charge of society. You know who is?”

Gordie grinds his teeth so hard they creak. “You?”

“People like Clark,” Campbell says. “People like Jason. But it’s not your fault. You just didn’t know. But you know what they always say, that ignorance is best treated not with punishment, but with education.

Someone on the other side feebly pleads that they put down the guns. No one even gives it an acknowledgement.

“So I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” Campbell continues. He turns the pistol to the side, keeping it trained on Gordie’s forehead. He tilts his head and looks down the barrel, smiling like it’s all a game. “I’m gonna give you the opportunity to learn, here. To right your mistake. You wanna know all you gotta do?”

Gordie lets his eyes flicker to the ground before coming up again. All of his muscles are pulled tight, so tight he can barely breathe. All the same, he manages to nod his head up and down.

“All you gotta do is fix my man Jason up here right.” Campbell says. “You’re gonna give him an IV, pump him full of fluids, cool him down, give him whatever the hell drugs you got. When we come back in two days, he’s gonna be right as rain. We’ll all be flying high.”

Gordie swallows dry spit. He listens to the ragged breathing of everyone in the room. Jason’s semi-lucid eyes are looking at him, too, and he finds them. “Fine.”

“Great!” Campbell lowers the gun, but doesn’t put it away; Clark follows suit. “Glad we could all reach an agreement. Everyone, sorry for the little delay in your treatment. You wouldn’t want a council member to be down for the count, right?”

The room echoes in small affirmations, bodies curling into themselves and tentatively coming up from under beds. Clark jerks his head toward Jason, an obvious command, and Gordie walks back to his station, wiping sweaty hands on his jacket. Some of the line outside the door has gone away, people fleeing while they could, but some remain, sweaty heads resting on the hallway walls. They’ll have to wait. Gordie grabs what he needs for an IV and comes back to Jason’s table, his footsteps as loud as gunshots in the previously boisterous hospital wing.

It’s his third time putting in an IV, and it goes fairly smoothly once Clark and Shoe hold Jason down. He hangs the bag of saline above the bed (another thing they’ll run out of), hands a whole bottle of Pedialyte to Campbell, along with a cup, two pills of fever reducer, and an anti-emetic. He walks back to the station, filling a bedpan with lukewarm water, and wipes Jason down with a towel while everyone watches. The whole time, Campbell is smiling like Gordie’s his ten year old son that finally made him proud on the soccer field. When he finishes, disposing of his gloves, Campbell comes around and claps him on the shoulder.

“Good man,” He says, making his way toward the door. Clark and Shoe follow without a word. “Make sure he gets his rest. Duty calls.”

Gordie watches them go, watches them walk down the hallway and out the door, breathing shallowly through his mouth. He gets about ten seconds of internal panic before Blake calls for him again, saying that yet another person has vomited. He shakes himself out of it, grabs his supplies, and keeps moving.

At midnight, he sends everyone with lower than a fever of 101 home to rest in their beds, drink tea and eat soup. There’s no going home, tonight. He checks on his four occupants one last time to make sure they’re all asleep, and then walks slowly back to his station, falling into the chair beside it. He breathes out sharp breaths, closing and opening his eyes. Looks at his hands. Watches as they shake, and shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of content warnings:
> 
> -implication of suicidal thought from a character that has canonically had such thoughts, namely Allie. There are no actions related to these thoughts and it's merely an exploration of headspace under a paranormally-influenced duress. If this is something you don't want to read, stop reading during Allie's scene at "You're looking in the wrong direction", and begin reading again at "'Allie!' A voice screams".
> 
> -depiction of gun violence from Campbell toward Gordie in the last scene of the chapter, as well as depiction of illness and symptoms such as fever and vomit from sick kids in the same scene. If these are things you don't want to read, I'd skip the whole last scene. I'd also like to say that I wrote this entire story and it's flu plot line before the news breaking of COVID-19 in America - if this sort of topic is sensitive for you during this time, please feel free to skip this part of the story.
> 
> Thanks all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you for coming back to read more of my story, I hope everyone is enjoying it so far! I hope all of you are staying safe and healthy.
> 
> This story is a little more than halfway done! This chapter is probably where things start picking up the most, although this whole thing went straight to 100 right out the gate.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter include hand to hand violence and a single use of a homophobic slur (both in the last scene of the chapter). If I missed anything or you think a description would also help in the end notes, let me know and I'll add them.

**iii.**

**_“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”_ **

_– H.P. Lovecraft_

Sam is tucked into Grizz’s side on the log by the fire, his eyes flitting between watching Grizz’s lips as he speaks and catching the flying sparks of ember drift into the air. He imagines the night is quiet – everyone else has already gone to bed – except for the crackle of the flames, the slight breeze passing through the air, Grizz’s voice. He has one hand on Grizz’s chest, feeling the vibration of his soft speech. Grizz has his palm flush against Sam’s back, rubbing up and down absentmindedly.

_So if you look there, you can see Orion’s Belt_ , Grizz is saying. Sam glances down at the book they’ve propped open on Grizz’s lap for reference, and then follows Grizz’s pointed finger up into the night sky. There are three stars, close together in a row. Sam nods, and then looks back at the other man’s face. _So then, you can use those three stars to find the rest of the constellation, and other ones as well._

“Why is it called Orion’s Belt?” Sam asks, scrunching up his nose. All he can see are the three stars. He’s learned this all before, but astrology was never really his thing, and it never stuck. Watching Grizz talk about it so passionately, though, he thinks he could commit it to memory.

_Because it’s the middle of the constellation_ , Grizz explains. _If you tilt your head, there’s a bottom half and a front half. See, he’s drawing his bow._

Sam squints. “He has no head.”

Grizz shrugs. _He lost it._

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam complains, and Grizz chuckles. His hand never stops gently rubbing below Sam’s shoulder blades. It’s nice.

_But look, if you trace from the belt down and to the left, you can see Canis Major,_ Grizz says. _The brightest star there is Sirius._

“How come Orion gets a dog?” Sam whines. “He doesn’t even have a head.”

_He needs a hunting partner,_ Grizz justifies. _Someone’s gotta be his eyes for him._

“So he gets a seeing eye dog, and I don’t get a hearing ear dog?”

Grizz is holding in laughter, obviously trying to whisper. _You gonna hold a vendetta against a dude that lives in the stars?_

“He’s pretty dreamy,” Sam says. “You could leave me for a hunky hunter with a dog.”

_No chance_ , Grizz says, and kisses Sam’s cheek. Sam smiles at him.

“Show me the Big Dipper,” Sam requests, wriggling in even closer into Grizz’s side. Grizz automatically raises his arm to let Sam in, and then drapes it over his shoulders. “I know that one.”

_Right over there,_ Grizz points at another portion of the night sky, a dark blanket studded with thousands of shining stars. Without the cities, there is no light pollution, and the skies are bright and clear out in the middle of the woods. Sam knows that this is the kind of thing Grizz lives for. He follows where he’s pointing, and immediately can see the big panhandle he knows and loves. Grizz looks down at the book to consult. _If you follow the tip of the Big Dipper, the far side of the pan from the handle, you can look up and to the right to see Polaris. That’s the North Star, the one they say to follow if you get lost. At least, that’s what the stories always say. That it’ll lead you home._

Sam looks away from Grizz’s lips back to the sky, finding the end of the Big Dipper and tracing his eyes upwards. He frowns, and pokes Grizz in the stomach. Grizz looks at him, affronted, but then follows where he points.

“I don’t see it. Where is it?” They follow the path again, Grizz double checking the book to make sure, but as they look to find the Little Dipper, the sky is dark in vast emptiness. A pocket of sable nothing amongst the brilliance of the other stars. The North Star, one of the brightest in the Earth’s night sky, is nowhere to be found.

Grizz swallows, and his throat feels dry and thick. _Not here._

.

Helena walks through the silent aisles of the library, transitioning from the autobiography section into murder mysteries. She thumbs along the titles, the shelves almost all intact; some people came and took their favorites that they didn’t own, mostly comic books and young adult novels, but most of the books are slightly dusty and untouched. Nearly all the cookbooks were taken to the cafeteria, the only exception. When Helena sighs, she can hear every part of her breath. She has little to do now except for help with cooking, speak at the church, and read books. Fewer and fewer people come to listen to her, though, so she’s been reading more. Yesterday she didn’t even show up to the chapel. No one said anything, so she imagines no one would have been there anyway.

She picks out a title and places it in her tote bag. She’s trying to stuff down the growing resentment inside her, the resentment she’s slowly turning from the Council to Luke specifically. She doesn’t want to be mad at Luke. She’s seen how tired he is – he lays next to her, but doesn’t sleep – and how draining it is just to work with Campbell, Harry, and Lexie every day. She can see his growing discontentment splayed open on his face every day when he comes home. And yet. Helena can’t help but feel like the obedient housewife to a military man that’s never home, that fights for a cause she doesn’t believe in. They’re not even married yet. She’s not sure anyone would even entertain the idea, now.

They haven’t even kissed in over two weeks. Helena finds a romance novel and drops it in her bag. She didn’t used to read things like this, but now she finds herself expanding, needing places to reach so she doesn’t feel trapped. She’d scream at Luke, she’d yell and fight and leave and hate him, if it wasn’t for the fact that she still sees _Luke_ inside him. It would be so much easier, if he was a stranger. If he had changed. To her, it just seems like he’s locked himself away, but he won’t tell her why, or where he’s gone. He claims to agree with what the others say, and then lets Kelly go when he sees her.

He saw Kelly, and let her go. Helena repeats this over and over again to herself. He saw Kelly, and let her go.

She decides to move to the nonfiction section (she needs a book on how to sew, since she ripped a hole in her favorite blouse, not to mention half of Luke’s things are ruined), turning around in the empty aisle. When she reaches the end, a figure suddenly appears in her periphery, and she startles, gasping quietly and grabbing hold of a shelf with her free hand.

Elle stares at her, unfazed by her reaction. She’s holding her own book in her hand, title obscured, her face pale and serious. Helena thinks she should be worried, but really, Elle always looks like that.

“Elle,” Helena breathes. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Elle replies, voice stilted. “I didn’t want anyone else to know I was here.”

“There’s no one here,” Helena says, gesturing at the echoing space. “Not like anyone’s continuing on to their higher education.”

Elle purses her lips. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” Helena says, and then continues down the hallway toward the DIY help books. Whatever, she’s got things to do. Elle follows her, her steps soft and light on the wooden floor. She’s soundless; if Helena didn’t know any better, she’d think Elle was a ghost.

“I need your help.”

“With what?” Helena asks, purposefully ignorant. “I thought you needed to figure things out on your own.”

“Obviously, that didn’t work out,” Elle snaps. Helena is impressed; rarely does she see genuine reflections of anger from her. She doesn’t care who it’s directed toward. Elle is such a good actress that anything real from her is a treat, and it cuts deep.

“It’s been over a month. I’ve been around.”

“So have I,” Elle says. “I’ve been listening, getting a picture together. Campbell trusts me again.”

“What, does he tell you every bit of his master evil plan for world domination?” She finds a book on sewing and clothing repair, and pulls it from the shelf. She’ll figure it out.

“He tells me more than he thinks he does,” Elle explains, hugging her book to her chest. Helena still can’t see the title. “What does Luke tell you?”

Helena glares at her. “Don’t be cruel.”

Elle flinches, minute. “I’m sorry.”

She concedes, sighing and running a hand through her hair. “It’s alright. It’s fine. Luke doesn’t…tell me much. At all. About anything, really.”

Elle nods. “We’ll need his help, eventually. Can we trust him?”

“He saw Kelly yesterday, and let her go,” Helena hears herself say, and then panics. She looks at Elle, eyes wild. She did _not_ just say that out loud. “Fuck. Wait. No. You can’t – don’t –”

“I won’t tell Campbell.” Elle shrugs. What does she care about Kelly? “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Helena nods. “Okay, you can’t, okay? He can’t get in trouble, he’s on thin ice already, I can tell.”

“Promise.” Elle looks out the window. The town seems abandoned, most of the residents holed up at home with blankets piled over them, sniffling and sneezing. The wind casts a billowing cloud of snow across the quad. “We need to do something, soon.”

“I’m sorry, but what are you thinking of doing?” Helena accuses. She crosses her arms to match, and her tote bag hits her hip. “Last I even heard of you, Elle, you had crawled back into Campbell’s lap and Allie and Will were arrested. I thought you wanted to get away from him.”

“I _do_ ,” Elle hisses. “You don’t get it. None of you get it.”

“Explain it to me.”

“I can’t,” Elle looks away again. “There are no laws here anymore, no more rules. There’s no containing Campbell in any way that matters. If we don’t do that, Harry and Lexie will continue running everyone closer to death. They want to hunt down the fugitives.”

Helena swallows dry spit. “I know.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Elle says. “We need them to come back. None of us here can lead, can bring us back to what we need to be.”

_Luke could_ , Helena thinks. _He could, but he won’t_.

“So, what?” Helena raises her hands in an interrogative gesture, quickly crossing them again. “You’re right, I don’t get it, Elle. What do you want to do? Because right now, honestly, it seems like we can’t do anything. I have no sway over anyone anymore, least of all Luke.”

“This only ends one way,” Elle whispers. She’s still not looking at her. Helena wants to reach out and shake her, make sure she’s lucid, make sure she’s real. “You understand that, don’t you?”

She does. “Tell me what you know, Elle. I can try to help, but I need to know what’s going on.”

“It’s better if you don’t know everything,” Elle dismisses her. “If they catch us, it’ll be better if you don’t have all the pieces. You’ll be safer that way.”

“What are we _doing_?”

Elle looks at her, and down at her tote bag. Her face contorts, her smile bright and polite. “Are you learning how to sew?”

Helena wants to rip her hair out of her scalp. She forces the words out of her mouth. There must be a point to this, there must be a code. Elle looks behind her, like someone’s going to just fucking appear out of nowhere. Elle herself did, though, so she guesses she has a right to be paranoid. “Yeah. Yeah, some of my clothes are ripped. I don’t want to waste them, just throwing them away and getting new ones. We’ll run out, eventually.”

“Maybe Gordie can help you.” Elle unfolds her arms, finally, revealing the book to just be a large moleskin journal. She takes the book and opens it, ripping out a page swiftly while maintaining eye contact. “He’s good at that kind of thing, he has a steady hand. And Luke should help you. You’re fixing his clothes, too.”

“Right.” Helena eyes Elle’s hands. She takes a pen out of her pocket and folds the piece of paper over in her hand, writing without looking at it. She’s still looking at Helena, smiling pleasantly. It’s more than unnerving, and this is one of the many times that part of Helena understands why Campbell is attracted to her, in his sick, abusive, Campbell way.

“Gordie’s really busy, though, so you’ll have to go to the hospital to ask him if he has any time to spare.” Elle reaches out quickly and shoves the piece of paper into Helena’s hand. She immediately drops it into her tote bag, nodding along. “Maybe tomorrow, after the meeting. That’s usually when Harry and Campbell like to talk.”

“Sure thing,” Helena says. Her voice is too empty. She’s not a good liar. She’s not sure who she’s supposed to be lying to. “That would be very helpful. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Elle says. She crosses her arms again. “I have to go make dinner soon, Campbell’s birthday is coming up, and I’m making him all of his favorite things. He likes to do it together, now. It’s good bonding time.”

Helena can’t remember the last time she saw Luke in the kitchen. She usually just makes two portions and then he eats it when he comes home, cold, in living room. In this moment, though, she doesn’t feel jealous at all. She just feels sick.

“That sounds nice.” Helena smiles, and Elle nods. She looks pointedly down at Helena’s bag, and then begins to back away toward the main hallway. Helena takes a step forward, too harshly, too quickly. “Elle. Uh, thanks, for stopping by. It was nice to see you.”

“Nice seeing you too,” Elle says, and then she’s gone, soft steps taking her away. Helena stands there for a while, watching her go, and then traces every aisle of the library. She holds in bated breath, and waits to find someone hidden in the stacks, listening to their conversation. Waits to find Campbell, or Clark, or Luke. She scans the whole building. There’s no one there.

She walks all the way home with it, her tote bag weighing heavy full of books and suspense. She’s paranoid, now, looking every which way for someone to stop her, arrest her, take her away. Ever since Allie and Will were arrested, she’s felt this halting fear within her; she had spoken out against Harry and Lexie, too. She was speaking out against them when they had told everyone there would be no election. Surely, they would come for her. Was Luke the only person between Campbell and her? It was no secret he didn’t like her, given she had harbored Elle, told him to fuck off to where the sun don’t shine. Was Luke her only protection? Was she pushing him away, and endangering herself in the process?

Her hands tremble when she reaches their house, shuddering from the cold and the anxiety. The keys fumble in her hand, and it takes her four tries to get in the door. She stumbles into the foyer, shutting the door behind her. She fishes out the note and dumps the rest of the bag onto the hardwood floor, books spilling out. Helena keeps walking, walks all the way into the kitchen and hunches over the counter, sweaty hands slipping on the marble top. She takes a deep breath, and listens, standing completely still. Other than her heartbeat, there is nothing. Luke isn’t home.

She takes the piece of paper and unfurls it, keeping her body curled over the scratched, uneven writing. She breathes, and furrows her eyebrows, tracing what’s written with silent lips. On the scrap of paper, Elle has simply written one single date.

2/4/2020.

.

Kelly keeps packing and re-packing their bags, throwing everything in haphazardly only to take it all out again to fold it up nicely. Honestly, it’s a little annoying, and more than a little distracting. Eden is beginning to fuss, and if she begins to cry, Becca will hand her off to Kelly because she is _not_ dealing with a neurotic environment-induced meltdown right now. She needs to take a goddamn nap.

“Girl, you need to calm down.” Becca says, leaning back on the bed. Kelly keeps glancing out the window, and it’s stressing her out. She can’t hear anything, but she’s been too lazy and too arms-full-of-baby to actually get up and check anything out herself. She moans. This cannot be good for her post-partum blood pressure. “You’ve been doing this since six in the morning.”

“What?” Kelly’s hair flies all over the place as she whips up from her crouched position. Half of it lands in front of her right eye, and she blows it away with a halfhearted puff of air. Becca gives her a look. “Sorry.”

“What is up with you?” Becca shifts so she’s standing up straight, because her lower back is beginning to hurt, and Kelly looks like she needs to be addressed directly. “You leave to get diapers and come back with a heart condition.”

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just.” Kelly pulls in her lips, bites down on them. Hard. It’s annoying, and distracting. “I think we may need to leave.”

“What? Why? I just got comfy here, with your rich people stuff and weird pillows.”

“Because.” Kelly sighs, running her hands down the entirety of her face. “Ugh. Someone saw me, in the supermarket.”

Becca quirks up a grin. “Was it Brendan? Because that guy is so stoned all the time, everyone will just believe he had some sort of kinky grocery store sex hallucination of you.”

“No, Becca, you.” Kelly looks down at the bag, half packed, half strewn on the floor. “It was Luke. Luke saw me.”

“Luke?” Eden fusses in her arms, one tiny hand flailing out in distress, and honestly, Becca’s feeling the same way. “Member of the Guard, imperial councilman, fucked over our friends Luke? Homecoming king gone dark side Luke? That one?”

“Jesus, yes, that one,” Kelly gives her some serious side eye, which she does not appreciate, but respects. “Do we know any other Luke?”

“You’d think we would, it’s a pretty common name.”

“Not the point.” Kelly rocks back on her ankles. “He saw me in the grocery store, and tried to talk to me. I didn’t tell him anything, and I booked it out of there as soon as I could.”

“And?” Becca cries. “Did he call for the cavalry? Sic the dogs after you? How deep in shit are we?”

“I’m not sure,” Kelly mumbles. “He…he didn’t really do anything. He just sort of watched me leave.”

“What, so Captain Backstabber grew a heart? Or a pair of balls?”

“I don’t know, but he told me that Campbell is going to be looking for us.” At Becca’s freaked out look, Kelly quickly explains. “I mean for all of us, the fugitives, Allie and Will. Sam too, I suppose. He said if we’re in town, we should get lost, because they’re going to start looking as soon as the snow clears.”

Becca huffs. “I give them three weeks. They were so unorganized after the coup, they didn’t even look for us in the hospital until Eden was sleeping through the night.”

“She still doesn’t do that,” Kelly complains.

Becca pokes Eden in the tummy, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Yeah, you’re a bad little sleeper! You suck at sleeping, you cute little insomniac!”

“I think they might be better organized, now,” Kelly says. “Or at least, Campbell is more motivated. It’s been over a month since we all ran away. It’s probably bugging him that we haven’t shown back up yet. He probably thinks we’re plotting to take the town back over, or kill him, or something.”

“Oh, I like that plan,” Becca smiles. “Why aren’t we working on that?”

Kelly frowns at the supplies on the floor, and then stuffs them all into the bag, unorganized. She takes a couple of things out again, lighter shirts, and then zips it up.

“I think we should go,” She says, voice firm. Becca stares at her. “It might not be safe here, and this is the first place people would look for me. They’ll start at all our houses. If Luke even mentions he saw me, they’ll come here.”

“Where will we go?” Becca asks. “We can’t go back to the hospital, or the school. It’s still too cold and windy outside for Eden.”

“I know,” Kelly agrees. “I have a place. Gordie and I set up a safe house.”

Becca blinks at her, uncomprehending. “Who the fuck are you, James Bond?”

Kelly laughs softly, fidgeting with the handle of the bag. “We thought we should have a contingency plan, in case he needed to get out and couldn’t make it through the woods, or if we needed somewhere to be. We stocked one of the abandoned train cars with food and water, some blankets.”

Becca thinks it through, and then smiles. “Damn, Kelly. I’m impressed.”

Kelly grins. “Stop.”

“No, seriously,” Becca’s teasing her now. “I never took you for an apocalypse prepper, but I’m glad to have you on my side.”

“You’ll be thanking me when Campbell doesn’t catch us,” Kelly stands, swinging the bag behind her back. She goes to leave the room, meaning to grab the rest of their stuff, but Becca rises from the bed and grabs her hand. Kelly looks at their hands, to Eden, to Becca’s face, and back again.

“Hey. I’m thanking you now.” Becca’s face is kind, and Kelly falters under its openness. She has a way of lightening the room, even when the weight on her own shoulders is dark and heavy. Kelly wishes she was more like that, wishes it was more effortless. She supposes it’s not really effortless for Becca, either.

She smiles, even though it’s strained. “Come on, get your things.”

What really happens is Kelly gets all the things, while Becca prepares Eden for the short journey outside; bundled up in several baby jackets and stuffed into the papoose on the front of Becca’s chest, Kelly helps slip the lighter backpack over Becca’s shoulders. She comes forward softly, taking the chest straps and gently buckling them over Becca’s shirt. Eden lies between them, and coos softly up at Kelly’s face. She crouches down and gives Eden a kiss on the forehead, tucking her hat back over her ears. Kelly stands up again, and Becca is smiling at her.

She gestures to the chest straps. “Better for your back.”

Becca rolls her eyes. “My hero.”

Kelly smiles in return, shouldering her own bag up onto her shoulders. It’s much heavier than Becca’s holding extra food, clothes, and Eden’s supplies, but she doesn’t let on. She didn’t just have a baby two months ago. She can deal.

She places her hand on the handle of the front door, and peeks out just to see if anyone is passing by on the street. It’s like a ghost town. She waves Becca to follow her, and they walk through the house to the back door, locking it behind them and walking around the side of the house. The three girls are silent as they take in the world around them. Snow no longer falls, but the wind casts small icy tendrils across open spaces. The roads have still not been plowed – Kelly supposes they just haven’t gotten to this street yet, if they mean to plow at all. She walks forward a few steps, but then realizes Becca isn’t following her.

Becca is staring at the trees around Kelly’s house, coniferous pines and drooping maples, casted in white. Eden giggles as a rogue snowflake topples toward her face, and then promptly sneezes as it lands on her nose. It’s messy, and she cakes her entire tiny face in snot. Kelly sighs, and walks back toward them. She takes her sleeve out from under her coat and wipes at Eden’s face with it.

“I forgot,” Becca says, voice small. “I forgot how pretty it was, living here in the winter.”

“You’ve been able to see it from the window for days,” Kelly replies impatiently.

“Yeah, but it’s different outside,” Becca shrugs one shoulder. “It’s so magical. I wish Eden was old enough that we could build a snow fort. Sam would love that.”

“You’ll have to wait a few years.” Kelly ignores the way her chest tightens at the brightness Becca’s eyes hold when she speaks of Sam. They grew up together, she tells herself. Kelly, for the most part, is new. She tugs at Becca’s hand. “We have to go.”

The train station isn’t too far from Kelly’s neighborhood – the houses of the richest people in town were always situated equidistant from each important place in town, that was the point. She never had to travel far for school, or the doctor, or going to the store. Her dad always got her to where she needed to be on time, or fashionably late when it was appropriate. She had never even thought to be grateful for it. Nevertheless, the convenience of her former life aids them now, as they walk tucked close to the hedges and bushes lining the roads. Kelly walks on the outside, so that Becca is shielded by her if anyone is to see them from the side. Becca gripes under her breath as untrimmed sticks poke at her from unsuspecting angles, and within ten minutes, she complains that her feet are sore.

“Your feet are always sore.” Kelly makes sure no one is loitering by the gas station, and then they cross the street, picking their way downhill toward the train platform.

“They’re still a little bit swollen,” Becca whines. “This is bullshit. I didn’t focus on toning my _feet_ , I didn’t think I’d need them.”

“You didn’t think you’d need your feet?”

“Not this much!”

“Maybe you just need to exercise,” Kelly teases. “All this running from the shadow government could be good for you.”

Becca huffs, incredulous. “Yeah, right. Is that your professional opinion? I want a different doctor.”

“Too bad, you’re stuck with me.” They climb onto the platform, and Becca leans against a beam, breathing. Eden gurgles, a wet and overall super gross sound.

“If you puke right now, I swear to god.” Becca leans her head back, exposing her neck as though she’s really sending a particularly choice prayer to the almighty. Kelly raises an eyebrow; a line of drool makes it out of Eden’s mouth, but nothing more. She counts the train cars, settling on the fourth farthest from the platform. She steps down, offering Becca her hand for support.

“You’ll have to keep watch for me,” Kelly says, and Becca nods. She turns around, surveying the hillside, while Kelly ducks down under the train car. She quickly finds what she’s looking for, jabbing her hand underneath a long run of piping. She emerges with a key and climbs up onto the lip of the landing, taking the padlock she and Gordie had fixed onto the door in her hands. She unlocks the door and then hops back down, hiding the key back in its cubby. It takes her a couple of tries to open the heavy door, Becca looking more and more nervous each time, but she finally yanks it free without it making too loud of a noise. She offers Becca her hand again, and helps lift her up into the structure, closing the door behind them.

The entrance space between the door to the train car and the cabin itself is blocked off by another locked door, rendering the atrium cramped and compact. With their bags on, the girls barely have room to move, pressed closely together between the doors. Kelly makes to squeeze by to get to the key to the second door, also shut with a padlock, but freezes when she hears movement from outside. Eden gurgles and laughs, looking up at Kelly’s face, but she gently shushes her. They stay stock still as they strain their ears – there’s the revving of a car up on the bridge, the shouting of boys and, if Kelly listens hard enough, the careless clinking of metal on metal. As far as she knows, the only people who still regularly get gas and drive around are the Guard, and the only person with a pickup truck large enough to get through this snow is Clark.

Eden squirms between them, and Becca pries a hand out from behind her back to hold her against her stomach, whispering comfort under her breath. Kelly’s head is strained toward the door, heartbeat ricocheting through her chest, certain that Clark has seen them, certain that he’s going to come down, peer through the glass of the train window, see them trapped and point his pistol, aiming at Becca’s head –

Nothing happens. The shouts die out, and there’s the sound of car doors closing. Then, the slow churn of four wheel drive on snow – they must be plowing the roads. They stay there for a few minutes longer, breathing shallowly, waiting for the silence to return. When it does, they stand together for longer still, just breathing. Becca drops her head forward in relief, letting loose a deep exhale. They’re so close, Kelly could drop her chin on top of Becca’s head.

Instead, she sets herself to open the second goddamn door and get them inside. Kelly goes to move around to get to the second key they stashed underneath a bucket, but the space is so cramped that she trips, steadying herself with her arm on the wall behind Becca’s head.

Becca laughs at her, a small sound through her nose. She looks up at Kelly, a good four inches shorter, and Kelly’s cheeks feel hot despite the cold. Her voice is still slightly shaky from the fear, deeper than usual. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You know,” Kelly shrugs. “Popular spot.”

“You need to work on your game,” Becca teases, but it doesn’t sound like a tease at all, it sounds serious, and Kelly bowls herself overboard out of this situation as quickly as she can.

“I have to get to the key,” Kelly looks at the other side of the room with her eyes, and Becca sighs dramatically, holding Eden and scooching out of the way. Kelly squeezes past and upturns the bucket, grabbing the key taped to the underside and going to work on the lock.

“You know, I’ve decided that I refuse to die at the hands of a big dumb football jock,” Becca states, clear and matter-of-fact. “Don’t you think this is all just so cliché? The jocks are in charge, scaring the living daylights out of the nerds and the pretty girls? I can’t tell if they’re going to try to seduce us or throw us in a locker.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think Allie really counts as a nerd,” Kelly muses. “She was never really popular, either. Plus, we do have a football jock on our side. Where does Grizz fall in this cliché?”

Something steels in Becca’s face, a protectiveness that Kelly is still trying to figure out. “Grizz is different,” she dismisses. “He’s smart, and he’s not like those monsters at all.”

Kelly pops open the lock, side-eying Becca, who suddenly looks conflicted and emotional. “I’m not disagreeing with you. Grizz saved our lives.”

“Grizz is great,” Becca says, sort of empty, like she’s trying to convince herself. Kelly decides not to tread in what is obviously choppy water, and wordlessly opens the door to the train car. Becca pushes her way in after her, as though she’s suddenly desperate for more space, and promptly shucks off her bags, falling into a two-seat bench. Kelly picks up Becca’s bag off the floor, and deposits all of their stuff on another bench, fishing out diapers and a toy for Eden. Becca unclips her and lays her down on a blanket. Eden coos, reaching up for her mother, and Kelly places a plastic chain of keys in the baby’s hands. They immediately go to her mouth, and her feet kick up into the air. Kelly can’t help but smile.

“Aww,” Becca leans over and tickles her tummy. “You’re the best. You’re the best baby in the whole world, when you’re not puking or pooping. How can I be upset when you’re this cute?”

Kelly straightens up, grabbing her bag again. She clears her throat. “I have to go.”

“Oh,” Becca looks up at her, face morphing into a glare. “That’s how.”

“There’s a bathroom and a changing table in the back,” Kelly says. “There’s more than enough food, diapers, even some books to read. Nothing’s hot, but you should be warm enough if you stay in the middle and bundle up in the blankets. I’ll be back by morning.”

“Wait, you’re serious.” Becca straightens up in her seat. Eden makes a sudden shout, a little _aahh_ sound, but they both ignore her. “Kelly, you can’t just dump me here and leave. What if the Guard comes back, and they see us? I don’t even have anything to protect myself with.”

Kelly takes the baseball bat out of its sling on her bag and places it on a seat.

“ _You_ need that.” Becca argues.

“I don’t have a gun to give you,” Kelly says. “You’ll be okay. Just stay quiet, stay warm. I’ll be back in no time.”

“I don’t understand.” Becca runs her hands through her hair, exasperated. “I thought we were supposed to stay together.”

“We are,” Kelly reassures her, coming closer and kneeling down in front of her. “I just need to go back to the camp. They need to know that Campbell is going to come looking for them, that they need to stay out of sight until we figure this out.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“It’s still too cold out,” Kelly reminds her. “Eden needs to be inside. If you want, I can bring Sam back with me, we can all stay here –”

“No,” Becca shakes her head firmly. “No, he can’t come back here. It’s not safe for him, with Campbell running the show.”

Kelly nods at her, looking deep into her eyes. Becca’s shivering, but it only seems to be half from the cold. After a moment, she nods too, blinking, eyes wet. Kelly stands, tucking her back tighter against her chest. She leaves the baseball bat on the chair, hoping it’ll bring Becca some sort of comfort.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” Kelly doesn’t even make it three steps to the door before Becca’s behind her, tugging on her sleeve. She turns around, and Becca envelops her in a tight hug, squeezing every bit of life out of her. She lets out a laugh instinctually, and wraps her arms around the smaller girl. This time, she does let her head come down to rest on top of Becca’s, taking in a breath and holding it with her.

“I’m so fucking mad at you,” Becca says, and Kelly scoffs. “Don’t you dare get caught.”

“I won’t,” Kelly promises. She breaks free of the hug, holding Becca out at arm’s length for just a moment.

“Morning?” Becca asks. Behind her, Eden coos, curling her limbs inward. She grabs her foot, abandoning the set of keys, and they fall to the floor.

“Morning,” Kelly nods, and retreats out of the door. Becca watches as she closes the first door, relocking the padlock, and then steps out into the snow, doing the same for the outer door. She can still see her as she walks away, down away from the bridge. She only loses sight of Becca’s face pressed against the window as she turns around the end of the train, across the tracks, and into the woods.

.

Only twenty-five people show up for the first town meeting after the snow. Over half the town is sick in some capacity, and Luke supposes attendance is never really the point. At this point, it’s all just for show. Lexie and Campbell don’t care who’s listening. Harry isn’t listening at all.

When he walks into the church, he gives Helena a look he hopes she can decipher as reassuring, and then walks past her. He walks past the rest of the dwindling attendees, walks past Clark and Shoe, and sits himself down next to Harry. Lexie is standing up on the stage, arms crossed, her foot tapping an off-beat, staccato rhythm into the floor. Luke glances over at Campbell, who is lounging in the pew across the aisle from Harry and Luke. He gets a whole row to himself, his arms sprawled out on the backrest behind him. Briefly, Luke wonders where Elle is, and then remembers that she only sits in the back, now, doesn’t bother for appearances sitting up front with Campbell. He’s sure that’s not what Campbell really wants, but Elle’s never been one for the spotlight, and honestly, at least she’s still there. Luke had half the thought that she would have run for the hills ages ago. These are the kinds of thoughts he keeps to himself.

It’s fucking cold in the church. Even with a modicum of central heating, the draft is intense, and the old floorboards creak, releasing frigid air as if they’re telling a secret. Luke shifts, looking around at everyone bundled in their knit hats and winter coats. He sees Helena shivering, rubbing her mittens together, and wants to wrap his arm around her to warm her up. He doesn’t move. Clark’s teeth are chattering, even though he’s doing his damnedest to hide it. Harry doesn’t shiver, but his hands tremble, slight perturbations that have nothing to do with the cold. Lexie begins talking, but it takes Luke a moment to tune in and listen. He’s busy looking at Harry’s hands, and then up to his eyes. They’re less miserable than they were before, when there were thirty squatters in his mansion, but they’re still empty, showing the traces of discontent.

“We are handling the outbreak as best we can,” Lexie is saying, vibrating hard enough she looks like she’s going to start levitating, up and out of this godforsaken universe. “Gordie is working day in and day out to ensure that we are all safe and healthy. If you or anyone you’re close with begins to show flu-like symptoms, go to him and he can figure out what you can do. That being said, work will begin again tomorrow, as we need everyone’s help to clear the roads. If you cannot prove that you are unwell enough to leave your home, you will be expected to help with these efforts.”

Luke can hear the backlash of another town meeting, can imagine what would be said if it was Allie saying these words. Almost wants to say them himself. _What happened to not having mandatory work shifts? Who are you to decide who’s sick and who’s not? Gordie’s not even a doctor. What happens when the medicine runs out?_

Just like everyone else, he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not sure whether they’re too afraid to say anything, or if they all already know the answers.

Lexie switches to talk about the snowfall, and what that means for the town. It’s all too roundabout, too rambling, and she’s going in circles – Allie would have simply gotten to the point, and gotten off the stage. Luke imagines Lexie feels like she has to validate the time she spends up in front of everyone, demanding their attention. It’s proof to him that this was never meant to happen. He wonders what it would have been like if it was him up on that stage instead, and frowns when he can’t imagine anything going all too differently.

He nudges Harry with his elbow. Harry blinks, once slowly and then again at regular speed, and flicks his eyes toward Luke without moving his head. Luke subtly fishes a piece of paper out of his pocket, and holds it next to Harry’s. Harry looks down at it, and frowns. He looks forward again. Luke groans inwardly, and then leans in slightly to whisper into his ear.

“This is such bullshit.”

Harry shrugs, furrowing his eyebrows. It seems now that he’s doing everything he can to actually listen to Lexie, who is beginning to falter and lose track of all the things she had to say. Luke kicks Harry’s foot with his.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, man, and you know it.”

Harry is silent for a long time, long enough for Lexie to thank everyone for coming and announce she’s handing over the stage to the committee for going home, which, at this point, is just Gretchen. The red-head takes the stage to say absolutely jack shit, coughing into her elbow, and it’s only once she speaks that Harry’s mouth moves at all.

“I suppose you have a plan?”

Luke pulls his lips to one side, and then wipes at his face with his hand. He wiggles the piece of paper in his hand, but Harry still doesn’t move to take it.

“Something like that,” Luke says. “I’m working on it. But I need your help, man. We can make this work.”

The creases of Harry’s mouth curl up in a facsimile of a smile. Gretchen finishes spouting dead-end leads, and gets off the stage. There’s nothing signifying the end to the meeting, no promise of fun events or hopeful inspiration to get through the day. The stage is just empty, and Lexie is gone, having walked through the doors during Gretchen’s presentation. Everyone makes to get up, but Harry stays still in his seat. The piece of paper is still lodged in Luke’s hand.

He looks to his right, and sees Campbell looking at them, arms still slung across the back of the pew. Sweat begins to bead under Luke’s t-shirt. He takes his free hand and motions to Harry, making sure Campbell can see, faking silent snaps in front of his face. Campbell huffs, smirking, and rises. Luke is sure he is going to interrupt them, but instead he turns and walks down the church aisle, receiving Elle by the door. Helena is looking at him, eyes questioning. Luke makes a final attempt to get Harry’s attention, but the other boy cuts him off, turning suddenly to look him in the eye. He’s smiling, but in the way a mannequin might smile.

“Empty promises,” is all he says, and then Harry gets up and walks away from him, leaving the piece of paper, folded and sweaty, in Luke’s hand. He clenches his fist around it, the rest of him feeling empty in contrast. He stares at the stair leading up to the stage, breathing, wracking through his thoughts. He wonders what he would have done if Harry was on board, anyway. And onboard with what? Taking power from the people that helped them get power? Somehow going over the heads of Lexie and Campbell? Somehow getting rid of them? Luke thinks that Lexie could be swayed, but Campbell seems to have a vision, and it seems to be playing out in front of him. He has no way of understanding, no way of getting in his head, but he does know one thing. The only way to extract power from Campbell would be to capture or kill him, and Luke knows on a fundamental level that he’s not capable of that.

He wonders what made him think Harry could be.

The church is empty, and cold enough that Luke can see his breath as well as hear it. Silently, Helena takes a seat next to him. She leaves a few inches between them, just enough that he can’t feel the heat from her body. It’s driving him insane.

“Clark went to go check on Jason,” Helena says softly. “He’s doing better, now. Fever’s gone down.”

Luke sighs, doesn’t reply. He glances up at the crucifix on the wall. He always thought it was troubling, foreboding, but Helena used to love this church. She used to find home in these walls, and now she looks stilted, an elaborate stack of pieces made up to look like her. She looks hidden. He wants to burn it all down.

“What’s on your mind?” Helena asks, peering at him. He ponders what his tower looks like, how close he is to crumbling down. “Are you thinking about Kelly?”

“No,” Luke shakes his head, voice hoarse. “Yes. I don’t know.”

Helena sets her jaw. “What were you talking to Harry about?”

“It was stupid,” Luke dismisses. He shakes the crumpled piece of paper in the air, but doesn’t unravel it. “All this says is to meet me by the bridge. I wanted to talk to him.”

“What about?” Helena’s pushing it. She’s treading close to where he shuts down, now, and Luke knows she’s aware.

“About,” Luke rolls back his shoulders, jerks his head to the side and back again. “Fixing things. Fixing this.”

“You want to fix this,” Helena says it like it’s supposed to be a question, but it emerges a statement instead. One of certainty, a little bit of pride. Luke’s not sure he’s earned that.

“I don’t want it to be like this anymore. But I don’t know anything else. I don’t know where I fit in this.”

“But you let Kelly go.” Helena shifts, so she’s facing him. Luke looks around the church, but there’s no one there, no one spying on them. The wind blows against the wooden siding, and the entire building creaks. “Luke, you say you’re with them, you say you’re one of them, but you saw Kelly, and you let her walk out of there, and you didn’t say anything.”

“She was just getting supplies.”

“Do you want this manhunt to go down?” Helena asks. “Do you really want to go out there with Clark, and Jason, and everyone else, and hunt down Grizz with a gun? Allie? Will? Any of them? Shit, Luke, Clark’s agreed to track down and arrest his ex-girlfriend. Do you want to be a part of that?”

“Of course I don’t fucking want that, Helena!” Luke groans in frustration, buries his head in his hands. He takes a hand and thumps it against his skull. Helena makes a noise in the back of her throat, but doesn’t make him stop. “Who do you think I am?”

“Who do you think _you_ are?” Helena snaps. “That’s the real question, because it’s clear to me that you don’t care what I think of you anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Luke says. “That’s not fucking true. I love you.”

“You can’t just act like you haven’t been avoiding me, that I haven’t been sitting around for over a month waiting to have this conversation with you, but you’ve been too emotionally stunted to even make eye contact with me. You said you didn’t want to marry me anymore, but you say now that you love me?”

“I didn’t mean it,” Luke thumps his head again, angry at himself, angry at his friends, furious at this world. “I just. Things have been so bad, Helena, and I don’t want you to get wrapped up in it. With Lexie, and Campbell, the things he plans, the things he wants, I don’t want that. I don’t want that for you.”

“You can’t extract me from what you’re wrapped up in, Luke.” Helena places her hand on top of his. He feels like he’s quaking, but none of his limbs move. “We’re supposed to tackle things together. Do you want us?”

“Not like this,” Luke’s breath comes out shaky. “Not here. Helena, why don’t we just leave? Why don’t we just get away from here?”

“They’ll hunt us down.”

“We won’t go where Grizz is,” Luke says. “We’ll go somewhere else, just the two of us. We’ll keep walking, we’ll go until we find the ocean.”

Helena smiles at him, gentle and sweet, and Luke wants to cry. Her hand tightens around his. “We both know we can’t do that, Luke. We’re not the kind of people to run away.”

“Then what do we do?” Luke looks down at his scrap of paper, damp in his fist. “If no one else will listen, what can we do?”

“We find other people,” Helena says, and her tone is so certain that Luke looks her in the eye. “We find other people, we find a way to stop Campbell, and we fix this fucking town.”

Helena’s eyes are righteous, confident but wary, and full of fire. Luke looks at her in awe. She is a monument to all things hopeful, in the way that hope is dug out of the rocky ground with bloody hands. Steadfast, and stubborn as a cliffside, the making of a mountain. Luke has never been more in love.

.

Sam yearns for wildflowers. He sits outside by the fire and tries to imagine this field, this place they are living, lush with green and pollen. He thinks of butterflies and dandelion fuzz, small bundles of color blooming on the sides and in the corners of their crop lines. Snakes of ivy winding their way around trees, and small flowers peeking up from their place amongst the deadwood finding life. He whines about this to Grizz, expressing how monumentally and profoundly _done_ with winter he is, and Grizz tells him that there is plenty of beauty in the winter forest. Sam would disagree, save for Grizz himself, but the other boy dismisses it, standing with a playful determination in his eye. Sam thinks he could follow that look anywhere.

_I’ll be back_ , Grizz traces with his lips, and then he’s walking toward the structure at the edge of the field, support beams transformed into two walls with Mickey, Gwen, and Sam’s help and a long day of work. Grizz strides past the structure and into the woods, only looking back once to wink at him. He knew Sam would be there, looking.

He disappears into the foliage – Sam traces his outline through the branches for a minute until that too, fades away, and Sam stands. Yeah, no way he’s just going to sit there and wait for him to come back. Who does Grizz think he’s dealing with? People might assume Sam Eliot is meek and mellow, but he’s got a stubborn streak the size of the New Jersey turnpike, and he’s not afraid to show it. Becca knows that well, by now. Grizz will have to find out eventually.

Sam trots across the field, tracing Grizz’s steps, and follows his lead into the woods and up a small hill. He looks around, but sees no evidence of Grizz, save for some footprints in the snow. Once, when he was little, he had gotten lost on a field trip out into the woods for science class – not for long, just a few minutes, but he had gotten scared, and Becca hadn’t been there to be his buddy. The teacher had told him that if that ever happened again, he should stop and listen for the snapping of twigs, the running of water. Sam hadn’t graced that advice with a response.

He knows Grizz is hiding from him, knows that he would expect Sam to follow him into the trees. While Sam is stubborn, he’s also patient, so he sticks his hands into his pockets and follows the footsteps in the snow. He walks up another incline, down and over a small stream. It’s pretty here, thin trees coming down around the bubbling water, just shy of being cold enough to freeze. He thinks about summertime again, imagines bringing a blanket down here and eating the fresh food they grow, having Becca, Eden, and Grizz around him as they eat a peaceful lunch and talk about nothing. Grizz will teach him about the birds that fly overhead, and when they make their way back to the camp they’ll sit by the fire and trace the stars again.

Sam realizes that he doesn’t want to go back to the town. He doesn’t want to go back, ever. All everyone can ever talk about is going back, and living in their houses, saving New Ham from its corrupt new leadership and downhill spiral. No one has said what Sam has been thinking this whole time: fuck them. No one seems to share the same sentiment. Maybe that’s him being defeatist, or giving up, but he doesn’t want to live a life like that when he can be out here with the people he loves, living simply. He supposes the rest of his friends didn’t grow up with a lost cause living under the same roof as them. They haven’t learned that some forms of love translate into hate, and letting things rot.

The footsteps stop beyond the water, and Sam turns around to look back at the path. His markings are intermixed with Grizz’s, and he can’t see anywhere the footsteps might have diverged. He looks forward again. One step the print is clear, crisp in the fallen snow, and the next it vanishes. He has no way of explaining it, but suddenly he _knows_ that the steps are leading back to the bridge, and the gas station, and the fear.

He won’t go back to New Ham. He can’t.

Sam jumps across the stream again, making his way back toward the camp. The footsteps in the snow seem deeper, now, and it causes something in his chest to tighten. He pauses, holding out a hand to rest upon the bark of a birch tree, feeling the heaving of his chest. Sharp shivers wrack up his back, and he becomes conscious of a noise. Not a memory, but a real noise, the slow inhalations and exhalations of breath, out of sync with his.

He turns around swiftly, but a hand catches him in the jaw, pushing him away. Sam topples over onto the ground, failing to catch himself on the trunk of the tree. His limbs flail in the cold snow, trying to right himself, and he looks up at his attacker. A rush of fear, colder than any ice, runs through him.

“You maybe want to tell me,” Campbell sways on his feet, looking down at Sam with a cruel smirk on his face. There’s no mirth in the curvature of his lips, only hatred and disappointment. “What the fuck you think you’re doing?”

Sam gapes like a fish out of water. It feels like his ears are ringing, but no tinnitus echoes in his head. Campbell’s voice, however, is crystal clear: not the deep, commanding voice Sam imagines his brother would have now, but the cruel tone of a mean five year old boy. When Sam has nightmares about his childhood, this is the voice he remembers. This is the voice he hears.

“It’s not a dream, baby brother,” Campbell mocks him. He reaches down and grabs a fistful of Sam’s jacket, hoisting him up to his feet. Sam sways there in shock, a million thoughts running through his head. He wants to scream, wants to call for Grizz, but his voice dies in his throat. He’s not even sure if a sound makes it out. Campbell takes a step back, surveying him. Sam swallows the nausea building in his stomach.

“Campbell,” Sam says, certain of the sound, now. “How did you –”

“Find you?” Campbell asks, taking a step closer again. Sam backs up instinctually, slamming his shoulder on the trunk of the birch tree. It’s a man’s face with a child’s voice, ringing in Sam’s head. It’s the first sound he’s heard in over ten years, and it’s the last one he ever wanted to face again. “What? Did you really think you could run away from me? Did you really think I’d just let you fuck off into the woods, happily ever after? No. No, I knew exactly where you were.”

“No,” Sam says, shaking his head. “There’s no way.”

“And I know where your faggot of a boyfriend is,” Campbell tilts his head, coming into Sam’s personal space. He presses him against the tree, broken nobs of branches pressing through his jacket into this back. He doesn’t even need to touch him. Sam just moves. “And I know where your whore and her baby are.”

“Don’t you touch them,” Sam’s throat trembles, the words fumbling out of his mouth. “Don’t you fucking touch them.”

Campbell blinks at him, grinning, and then lashes out with his hands. He grabs at Sam’s head, latching onto either side in a death grip. Sam’s arms fly out in retaliation, pushing at Campbell’s chest. Sam’s hat falls into the snow, and Campbell digs his fingers into Sam’s hair, pulling hard. He takes a step back, breaking Sam’s balance, and thrusts him back toward the tree. Sam’s face collides with the harsh, frozen bark, his skin tearing open. He nearly falls again, but Campbell pulls him back, slamming him flush against the trunk. Sam pushes out, tries to kick at Campbell’s shins, but Campbell bends his arm and rams his elbow into the side of Sam’s head. He pushes his forearm against Sam’s windpipe, face inches away from the blood on his cheek. His other hand stays latched in Sam’s hair, pulling so hard he’s sure it’s going to rip out.

“You know the problem with you, Sammy?” Campbell asks, eyes alight with joy. “It’s the same problem every other fucker in this town has. You think that you’re special. You think, just because you’re you and you _deserve_ it, everything’s going to work out. You thought you could be happy here? You thought maybe you’d get a free pass, what? Because you’re my brother?”

The wind blusters against them, ice particles flying into the scrape on Sam’s face and making it sting. He can’t hear the wind, he can’t hear his own strained breathing. He can only hear Campbell. It’s always been Campbell.

“Fuck you,” Sam spits, and Campbell smiles. “You’re not happy with your town, with your power? You had to come after me. I’m flattered. Am I that important to you?”

His brother laughs, sardonic and empty. “You’re such a self-righteous prick. I’m going to kill you, and your friends, and your new family. For no other reason than that you have been a gigantic, horrible pain in my ass from the moment you were born.”

“You won’t,” Sam shakes his head. His throat aches. “You’re a fucking monster, but you won’t.”

“You’ve always been so naïve.” Campbell’s face is morphing into displeasure.

“You had every opportunity to kill me our whole lives,” Sam rasps. “To hurt me. And you didn’t.”

“I wanted to.”

“And you didn’t.” Sam drops his head back against the tree, spots swimming in his left eye. “You want to know what I think, Campbell? I may be scared of you, but I think that you’re a coward.”

Campbell’s face contorts, lips coming up in a snarl. He only ever showed his real emotions around Sam. At school, he was always just a loner, just a weirdo everyone knew not to mess with, but he was never angry. He was never anything. At home, though, he would get angry. He would show hate. Campbell could feel every emotion, except for understanding. And he always took it out on Sam.

He’s used to being Campbell’s punching bag. He always tried to make himself scarce, but the two brothers have one thing alone in common. They’re both monumentally stubborn.

“You will never get rid of me,” Campbell threatens. “You’ll never be rid of me until you finally keel over and die.”

Sam coughs, his own lips turning up into a smile. “I think I’m willing to take that bet.”

He blinks, and the moment he closes his eyes the pressure on his throat releases; he drops to the ground like a ragdoll, curling into himself in the scattered snow. Sam looks up, but Campbell isn’t there. The world is silent, and cold, and his brother is nowhere to be seen.

He’s shaking, moving in whole body tremors that have almost nothing to do with the snow. His throat hurts, and he feels vibrations every time he takes a breath. There’s blood in the snow, and when he reaches up to feel at the scrape on his cheek, he smudges it, fingers coming back red. Sam forces himself to rise, stumbling away from the stream, from the tree, and following the footsteps back toward the camp. He doesn’t make it ten feet before he trips, crashing down on one knee, and he falls back to press his back up against a severed tree trunk. He calls Grizz’s name more than once, but all he can feel is the scrape of his throat and the hammering of his heartbeat. He has no idea how loud he is, if Grizz can even hear him. He’s hit with the tremendous fear that Campbell has hurt them, had actually meant everything he had said and hurt Grizz, hurt Becca and Eden. The very thought is enough for his chest to break open in a sob, and he hugs his knees to his chest, heaving wet breaths into his jeans.

Suddenly, and after forever, gentle hands fall on his arms, and Sam jerks back in fear. His breathing calms when he sees Grizz kneeling down in from of him, eyes wide in shock, mouth moving too fast for Sam to follow. He can’t hear a word. Sam’s eyes fall behind Grizz to the snow, a bundle of holly, pine, and dogwood branches discarded in the snow. The reds and dark greens contrast with the white of the ground cover, and Sam blinks. It’s beautiful.

Grizz grabs his face, soft but urgent, and makes him look at him. There’s terror in his eyes, unadulterated fear, and Sam put that there. He wants to wipe it away.

_What happened_? Grizz asks, his thumb casting over the torn skin on Sam’s cheek. He hisses in pain, shrinking back. Grizz frowns, breathing quickly. The knees of his pants are quickly dampening in the snow. _Sam, what happened? Are you okay?_

Sam shakes his head, and looks back toward the birch tree. The snow around the base is scattered, blood speckled around like winterberry, but the signs of struggle are only indicative of one body. He blinks, biting his lip. There should be more, Campbell had gone down with him, there should be more. Grizz follows his line of sight, cursing, and then moves Sam around with his hands, checking for injury.

_What attacked you_? He asks, eyebrows furrowed. _I didn’t even hear you. What was here?_

“Did you see him?” Sam asks, and Grizz winces. His voice must sound bad. Grizz grazes a hand over Sam’s neck, not quite touching. His head turns in an interrogative, and he shakes his head.

_Did I see who_? Grizz palms the back of Sam’s head, a supportive gesture. Sam realizes he’s still shaking into Grizz’s hold.

“Campbell.” Grizz’s eyes pop open at the name, jaw set. “He was here.”

Grizz shakes his head again, and a long strand of hair falls over his face. _That doesn’t make sense. There’s no one here._

“He was just here,” Sam protests. “He, he ran away.”

_There are no tracks,_ Grizz says. _I saw you fall down, and call my name. I would have seen him._

“He was here,” Sam stresses, frustrated. Tears prick at the edges of his eyes. “Grizz, he’s going to find the camp, he’s going to hurt you, he was here.”

_Okay,_ Grizz’s eyes are troubled, but he concedes. _Okay, Sam. We’ll go tell everyone. I’m going to make sure you’re safe._

What about you? Sam screams in his head, but he doesn’t say it aloud. He lets Grizz dab at his face with the inside of his hat, lets him help him off the ground. They follow the footsteps back, leaving the branches and the berries behind in the snow. Sam wishes they didn’t. Grizz grins reassuringly at him each time they make eye contact, but when Sam catches him unaware, he’s frowning, the muscles in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. He holds his hand. Grizz is so gentle, and in this moment it feels out of place in these woods, in this place of unknown and fear. Sam feels so bad. Grizz had gone out to pick him branches – a winter bouquet. He had been joyous, playful. Now, Grizz looks serious and afraid, the color of his happiness drained out and replaced by a washed stoicism. Sam did that. He does this to everyone he knows, simply because he exists, and Campbell is his brother.

Grizz leads him back to his tent, and settles him into the blankets. Sam hasn’t slept in his own tent in some time, now. Every space feels lonely without Becca or Grizz there. He wants them here now more than anything, wants to hold Eden against his chest and know that everyone he loves is safe. Instead, he shudders out empty sobs, eyes dry and limbs heavy. Grizz gathers the blankets and sleeping bags around Sam, eyes wet despite Sam not crying. Sam looks at Grizz’s throat, sees the soft vibration, the small movements of his lips that don’t quite form words. Grizz is humming. Sam likes to imagine it is a comforting tune, like the ones he remembers and sings for Eden. He knows that Grizz can only be singing it for himself, but he longs to hear it all the same.

Grizz leans back, casting a hand through Sam’s hair, eyes steeled over in thought. He leans forward quickly, just enough to press a kiss into Sam’s temple, and then he gets up to leave, walking in the direction of Allie’s tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much love <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy in this turbulent world right now. It means a lot to me that you're here and reading! This is the longest of all the chapters, and my personal favorite, so I'm excited to hear what you all think!
> 
> content warnings for this chapter include gun violence, blood, and depictions of a panic attack. I'll add descriptions of these in the end notes. Let me know if I miss anything!

**iv.**

**_“He who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a god.”_ **

_–Aristotle_

Kelly arrives back at the camp just before the sun sets, which she is thankful for. The shadows were beginning to pull, settling deep into their homes, and she was beginning to feel nervous. The circle of tents is quiet, Bean, Mickey, and Gwen sitting silently at the fire, everyone else absent. They greet her warmly, thankful she’s alright, and ask about Becca and Eden. Kelly tells them that they’re safe, and that she needs to speak with everyone. Sam, they say, is in Grizz’s tent, and Grizz had told everyone not to bother him until morning. Allie, Will, and Grizz are all by the pond, talking. Kelly can see their silhouettes in the fading light of the sunset.

She takes off her pack and sits, warming her hands by the fire. Mickey and Gwen head off to organize the food before bed, but Bean stays with her to wait. Eventually, the three figures begin to return, and Kelly waves once they’re in view. A familiar pang hits upon seeing Will, but she’s over it. She’s not about to let their mutual fondness and confusion prohibit them from being friends. When everyone gets closer, she greets them, sending Will a warm smile.

“Where’s Becca?” It’s the first thing that comes out of Grizz’s mouth, not even a _hello, Kelly, glad to see you weren’t caught and executed_. Usually Kelly would simply let it go, but he says it with such an un-Grizz-like curtness that she’s caught off guard. Allie shoots him a look. Kelly raises her eyebrows, and Grizz crosses his arms.

“She’s fine,” Kelly says slowly. Obviously the camp is experiencing some choppy waters as well. “She and Eden are safe. I didn’t want them to make the trek back here in the cold. I’m only staying until morning.”

Grizz looks like he has some choice words, but Will beats him to it. “Is everything alright?”

Kelly gives them all a strained smile. “Can you all sit down? I feel like I’m being reprimanded by my teachers at recess.”

Will and Allie immediately sit, Allie folding over herself in an effort to warm up. Grizz sighs, running two hands through his hair, and then follows suit. He melts into the position, a sudden juxtaposition from the stiff posture he had standing.

“Sorry,” he mutters, but doesn’t offer anything else. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to come give you guys some updates.” Kelly crosses her legs, rubbing her hands over her opposite arms. Will’s hand twitches by his side.

“Did you see Gordie?” Bean asks. “Is he alright?”

Kelly shakes her head. “I didn’t get to see him. He’s stuck at the hospital. Nearly everyone in the town is sick.”

“Sick?” Will blinks, incredulous. “Sick from what?”

“Well, it’s not like we all got our flu shots,” Allie grumbles.

“I think it’s just that, the flu,” Kelly says. “But everyone’s in close quarters, it’s cold, food is sparser so nutrition is probably down.”

“Everyone’s swapping spit,” Allie says. Will gives her a hard look, and she shrugs loosely.

“What else?” Grizz rests his head in his hands, not even looking at Kelly. The muscles in his back are tight from working and stress. “Becca’s not sick, is she? Eden?”

“No,” Kelly reassures them. “No, I think we’re both fine. We haven’t had contact with anyone. Except, well. I saw Luke.”

“Luke?” Allie’s eyes go wide. Grizz shoots up from his folded position, wipes a hand over his forehead. “You mean like, traitor asshole member of the Guard Luke? Turned us in to Campbell because he was butthurt about not running for mayor Luke?”

“Fuck, do we know any other Lukes?” Kelly asks.

“I really don’t think it was about the mayor thing.” Bean shakes her head, looking at the fire. “I’m still stuck on that.”

“Well, whatever his deal was, he’s not happy about it now.” Grizz is looking at Kelly intently, jaw muscles working as he listens. “I went into the grocery store because we needed diapers, and I wanted to grab formula to supplement Eden’s diet. There was no one in there, and then he was. He saw me, and I thought he was going to shoot me, or arrest me, but he didn’t.”

“He didn’t.” Bean echoes. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Kelly says. “He told me I had to leave town, that no one could see us there. Campbell’s the one in charge now, working through Lexie and Harry as figureheads.”

“Figured that much,” Will says.

“Apparently, the number one thing on their list after taking care of the snow and the flu is putting a bounty on our heads.”

“As if there’s any form of currency or reward.” Allie huffs, crossing her arms. “Who’s gonna take them up on that?”

“Anyone desperate for any more power than they currently have,” Will answers. “Plus, they have the entire armory of guns we confiscated.”

Allie twists up her face and turns away to face the fire.

“What then?” Grizz asks, leaning forward on his knees. “What did he do then?”

Kelly shrugs. “He let me go. I ran out the door, back to my house the long way. This morning Becca and I went to the train station. Gordie and I set up some emergency supplies there, they’ll be safe for a while.”

Grizz sits back, lips flickering to the side before settling again. He stares up at the night sky, deep in thought.

“That was a smart idea, with the train car.” Will nods at her. She grins back, but it fades away quickly.

“So, what?” Allie asks. “You came back to tell us they want us dead? We already knew that.”

“Allie.” Will scolds her sternly. She squints her eyes at him, mouth twitching in a snarl.

“I came back to warn you guys,” Kelly says. “And to get ideas on how to move forward. If what Luke says is true –”

“So we’re trusting Luke now?” Allie admonishes her, head tilting in frustration. “You think we can trust the guy that turned us in?”

“I’m not saying I trust him, I’m saying I believe him,” Kelly bites back. “If Campbell’s at the helm of this, we need to be smart, and we need to be careful.”

“Whatever.” Allie leans back and away, a dismissal. Kelly holds in disappointment. This is always Allie’s problem – she always responds either too emotionally, or not emotionally at all. “We have bigger things to worry about.”

Grizz shoots Allie a look, and they share eye contact, a silent conversation. Kelly looks between them, confused.

“Bigger things than Campbell hunting us down with guns,” She says slowly. “Okay.”

“Is there any other place you can go?” Will asks, diverting attention away from Allie and Grizz. “You guys can’t stay in the train car forever, and Becca and Eden shouldn’t come back here before we can be sure the snow won’t start again, or we build the shelter, whichever comes first.”

Kelly fiddles her gloved thumbs, thinking. “There’s always houses of people that didn’t have any kids. But I’m pretty sure people have gone through those, and I don’t want to have them be transient if we don’t have to.”

“What about the nursing home?” Bean suggests. “That’s bound to be empty, and it has a limited amount of medical equipment, if you need it. I’m pretty sure everyone’s forgotten about it.”

“It’s just near the edge of town before the boundary begins,” Will adds. “I passed it every day riding to school.”

“That could work,” Kelly says. “They should have some extra food, too, if it’s kept for this long, if it’s nonperishable. We could keep hidden in there.”

“Great,” Allie announces, standing. “Good work, team. I’m going to bed.”

“Kelly just got here,” Will argues. “We should talk about Campbell.”

“I’m done talking about Campbell,” Allie says. “And I’m sure Grizz is, too. Kelly, help yourself to some smoked fish. We’re saving the turkey. Welcome back, I’m glad you and Becca are safe.”

With that, Allie strolls back to her tent, hands stuffed into her pockets, shoulders up by her ears. Grizz sits with them for a moment longer as Will fetches some fish for Kelly to eat, and then he too rises. He thanks her for the news, gives her a hug, and tells her he’ll see her in the morning. Will, Kelly, and Bean watch silently as he trudges back to his tent, hands gentle on the zipper. They can hear him talking quietly for a moment, but can’t make out the words, and then the camp falls silent.

Bean lays a small hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came back, Kelly.”

“I wish I could have seen Gordie,” Kelly says. “He must feel so alone.”

“He wanted to do this,” Bean reminds her. “He wanted to stay, and help take care of people. When we see him again, he’ll have so much for us to know, and so many ways to help.”

“You’re right,” Kelly smiles, and Bean gets up to go to bed. She gives them a wave before zippering up her tent, and Will and Kelly sit quietly, listening to the crackling of the fire.

“I missed you,” Will admits.

Kelly ducks her head. “I missed you too. I missed all of you.”

Will sighs, rubbing at his forearm. “I wish things weren’t so complicated.”

Kelly thinks of Will’s smirk, Harry’s embrace, Becca’s laugh. “Me too.”

Will nods, like that explains everything, and says nothing more on the matter. They talk for a while longer, but after some time Will begins to yawn, and at the end of the night he still goes back to Allie’s tent to sleep there. Kelly feels vast and alone in her own tent, with no crying baby to comfort in the middle of the night, no body next to hers to soothe when it shakes with nightmares. She only has her own quiet tears, her own shivers, and despite living in her body for so long, she still has no idea how to make it stop.

She barely sleeps, constantly waking up from dreams of people shattering train car windows, of the train rolling away, of Becca screaming, Eden crying. She lays there in the pale light of the morning, groggy and upset in a vague way she can’t pinpoint. She doesn’t move until she hears the beginnings of movements outside, someone stoking the embers of the fire and nurturing it back to a flame again. With a restrained groan, she rolls over in the sleeping bag, pulling on her jacket and boots and gently unzipping the tent entrance. Gwen is tending to the fire, and offers her a kind smile. Kelly sits beside her, letting the smoky heat warm her as she watches geese fly overhead in the steel blue light of the oncoming dawn. She decides that she’ll make her way back as soon as the sun fully rises. With any luck, she’ll be back before Becca even wakes up.

She sees figures out by the tree line, walking together. Bean and Mickey make their way out from their tents and gather breakfast for everyone, followed slowly by Sam and Grizz. Kelly raises an eyebrow at seeing they spent the night together in Grizz’s tent, but isn’t about to say anything. She knows Becca and Sam aren’t necessarily romantically involved – Becca swears up and down that Sam is Eden’s father, but that it was simply a one-time thing. Kelly didn’t think that Sam was like that, but it isn’t her place to ask, or assume, so she’s kept her mouth shut. She waves minutely at them as they sit across from everyone on the other side of the fire, Sam curled into himself in a way that makes him look small. The right side of his face is scraped and scabbed over, like he took steel wool to his cheek, his neck and the lower half of his face wrapped up in a warm scarf. He doesn’t ask her about Becca, or Eden, so Kelly assumes Grizz told him. He doesn’t look at anyone at all, beyond a small good morning, instead training his eyes on the embers at the bottom of the fire.

It’s a silent breakfast of half a rice cake and the last bit of leftover fish. Grizz says something about needing to catch more, but not wanting to deplete the number in the pond. Mickey suggests they kill one of the turkeys, and they all murmur a half-hearted consent. Kelly mentions that maybe she can bring back any extra food from the nursing home, if she finds any. Bean and Gwen give her thankful looks, but no one else says anything. They all just want the winter to end.

Kelly finishes her meal and gathers her bags, the sun beginning to creep above the surrounding canopy. Bean asks when she’s going to leave, and she answers that she’s just waiting for Allie and Will to get back so she can say goodbye.

That’s when Allie screams.

Kelly drops her bag and she, Grizz, and Gwen all run around the tents and toward the sound of the scream, the others following closely behind. Allie is running toward them, hair whipping behind her, and Will is nowhere to be seen. Allie stumbles as they meet at the edge of the field, breathing harshly. Grizz grabs her by the shoulders, and Allie pries herself away, eyes manic and scared.

“Will,” She heaves. “It’s Will, it’s the thing in the woods, I need help.”

“Where?” Grizz asks, and Allie takes off again, running into the foliage. They all follow, Gwen turning quickly to the others and yelling to stay back for now. They trot up a short incline, brushing away brambles and sharp torn bush branches. When they reach the top, Allie is knelt by Will, who’s sitting in the middle of the snow, elbows on his bent knees. He’s breathing sharp, shallow breaths, chest buckling and reforming. His eyes are vacant, staring out at the white branches, tracking things in the air. Kelly turns around to face where he’s staring, and sees nothing.

“He’s not listening to me, he’s not responding,” Allie’s freaking out, her hands around Will’s arms. She shakes him, hard, and Will’s neck moves with the force. Grizz reaches out to grab Allie’s shoulder, pulling her gently away. “Will! Will!”

“Allie, you need to calm down,” Grizz says, holding her back. “He’s having a panic attack, or something, we need to be careful.”

Breath hitches in Will’s throat, raw, and Gwen flinches. “Jesus.”

Kelly comes forward to kneel before Will, hands ghosting over him but not touching. There are tears forming at the edges of Will’s eyes, unfallen. Kelly casts a hand through Will’s hair, speaking in gentle tones. Her other hand wraps around his wrist, feeling his pulse rocket through his veins.

“Will,” she says, voice shaky. “Will, it’s okay. We’re here. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real.”

“It’s the thing!” Allie cries, and Grizz turns her a few feet away. “It’s the thing I saw, I know it! I left for two minutes to go to the fucking bathroom, and the next thing I know he’s fifty feet away, fucking terrified!”

“Allie,” Gwen admonishes, and she sends the girl daggers in her stare.

“We all need to calm down,” Grizz says. “We all need to take a breath.”

Will shivers under her touch. Kelly puts more pressure on his wrist, just enough that he can feel it.

“Will, it’s okay,” Kelly says, trying to make her voice low and calm. “You’re not in danger. We’re right here.”

Will makes a pitched, keening sound in the back of his throat. Kelly breathes deeply and purposefully. After a minute, it makes her a bit dizzy, with the cold air rushing through her nostrils, but she keeps going.

“Count with me,” She urges. “Breathe. One. Two.”

Allie wipes at her face with the back of her glove, leaving harsh red lines as ice bites into her skin. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Allie. Please.”

“Six. Seven.”

“This is fucked,” Gwen says under her breath, hands on the back of her head. She turns around, facing the other way. “This is so fucked.”

Kelly finishes her count to ten. Will is breathing a bit deeper. “Good job. It’s okay, Will.”

Will’s throat jumps as he swallows excess saliva. “It’s okay.”

Allie makes a pained sound, but Kelly hushes her. “That’s right, you’re going good. We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Will echoes, and then blinks. It’s like the world slots back into place, and he shivers again, the arm not in Kelly’s hold shaking out in a spasm. He looks around at everyone, blinking, and then puts his head in his hand, shuddering out a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” Kelly smiles, eyes wet. She looks around, and everyone has tears in their eyes. She feels like if she cries, it might freeze to her face. Will is sweaty, and is going to get cold very fast. “Good job. You with us?”

“Yeah,” Will says, shaking out his hand. Kelly releases his wrist, and he rubs at it, staring at his skin and then at her. Allie breaks away from Grizz and crashes on her knees next to Will, looking at his face. “Shit. Yeah, I’m okay. Well, I’m not, but I’m good.”

“You scared me,” Allie whispers, and Will looks at her. His hands are still shaking, but he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans forward and hugs him, breath breaking.

“We should get you up off the ground.” Grizz comes forward, but doesn’t invade the space. “You’re covered in sweat, man.”

“I’m fucking freezing,” Will says, and Kelly stands to help him out of the snow. Gwen gives them a strained smile and then walks out of the woods. Kelly can hear her speaking in low tones to the others, waiting by the field. By the time they help Will walk down the hill and out into the grass, they’re all clustered around close, postures tense. Grizz nods at them, and they all begin to walk back to the tents.

“How do you feel?” Kelly asks.

“Like I just ran a marathon,” Will huffs, smiling shakily. “What time is it? Six?”

“Six forty-five,” Grizz supplies. “Long day.”

“We’ll change you out of those clothes, and then you can rest,” Kelly says. “Make sure you drink water, and keep warm.”

Allie presses in close to Will’s side. “What did you see?”

Grizz’s mouth twists up, looking at them. Kelly sees Sam look at Grizz, expression unreadable. Will sighs.

“I saw my dad,” He answers, and everyone is silent. “My birth dad. He spoke to me, it was like he was right there. He said these things…”

“It wasn’t him,” Sam speaks up, and everyone’s eyes fly to him. They’re all standing in the middle of the field, a small circle of scared kids. “Yesterday, when I was in the woods. I saw Campbell. Grizz told you all I fell and hurt my face, but it was him.”

Grizz’s face flies through half a dozen emotions in a few seconds, one of them shame. Allie looks at him, and then turns back to Sam.

“Campbell’s out here?” Mickey asks, incredulous. “Fuck, man, if he’s found us –”

“It wasn’t him,” Sam says with certainty. “Campbell is a monster, but the things he said to me, it wasn’t right. It was almost like a dream, or a memory. Things I didn’t remember quite right. And I could hear him.”

“Hear him?” Bean puts her hands up to her head, disbelieving. “What? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shakes his head. Grizz is staring down at the ground with his jaw clenched, like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, but he doesn’t stop Sam from speaking. “I could hear him, but only how I remember hearing him, when I was a little kid.”

“But this not-Campbell thing,” Kelly says. “It did that to you?”

Sam shrugs, gesturing to the scrape on his face. He tugs down his scarf, and reveals light bruising on his throat. Everyone shifts in discomfort. When Sam turns, Grizz is staring right at him, grimacing.

“My dad,” Will forces out. “It – the thing, it didn’t touch me. But, it wanted, it was –”

“I heard Cassandra in the woods,” Allie says, and Will looks at her sharply. “But it wasn’t her. This thing, it’s violent. It doesn’t want us here, it wants us gone.”

“Get in line,” Gwen mutters under her breath.

“It’s been fine out in the field,” Bean attests. “And this didn’t start until after the snow came.”

“What, do we really think we’re dealing with some ghost creature, or some shit?” Mickey asks. “Is that really where we’re at now?”

“Read the room, Mickey,” Allie snaps. “Where are we, anyway? This isn’t our world.”

“We can’t all be having like, the same stress dream, right?” Bean asks. “That’s not a real thing.”

Sam shrugs, his eyes having been trained on Bean. “Anything’s possible.”

“I don’t understand this,” Kelly says. “Why now?”

“So foul and fair a day I have not yet seen,” Grizz murmurs, mostly to himself, but everyone stops talking, lingering in the thought.

After a moment, Kelly turns back to Will, who still looks shaky on his feet. “We should get you warm.”

No one says anything until they’re back by the fire. Grizz picks up another log and throws it on, and it’s only then that he speaks again. “I think we need to be careful. We don’t know what’s going on, but we can’t go back to New Ham. So we need to be smart. No one should go out in the woods alone, not until we figure this out. Everyone cool with that?”

Everyone nods solemnly, and Grizz huffs out a heavy breath. Kelly puts a hand on Will’s back just before Allie leads him to their tent, meeting Kelly’s eyes and mouthing a _thank you_. Kelly smiles back at her, and then goes to grab her back, hoisting it up onto her shoulders.

“I should go,” She announces. “I can’t leave Becca and Eden alone for too long. It’s not entirely safe where we are, we should go to the nursing home and check it out, like Will said.”

Sam is smiling minutely at her, and he brings a hand up to his chin before bringing it forward, also mouthing his thanks. Kelly wishes she felt like she’d done anything to be thanked for.

Grizz shrugs his shoulders, and then brings them down abruptly, nodding his head. He leans over and grabs his backpack. “Well, you’re not going alone.”

“What?” She asks. “Grizz, you’re needed here.”

“No one out in the woods alone,” Grizz says. “Weren’t you just listening to what I said?”

She shrugs sheepishly. “I just thought –“

“I’ll accompany you to the trainyard,” Grizz assures her. “Keep watch while you get Becca and Eden, and then take you to the nursing home. Just in case. Plus, I can grab some of those canned peaches that are bound to be there, bring them back as a treat.”

Kelly grins despite herself. “It’ll be nice to have backup.”

“Thata girl,” Grizz shoots her a finger gun, and then turns to face Sam. Kelly feels like she’s intruding in some private moment, no matter her confusion, and walks a few feet away. She tightens the straps on her bag and tries not to listen. She fails.

“I’ll be back by tonight,” Grizz promises, a hand making its way to Sam’s, holding his gently by their hips. A pinkie and a forefinger, locked together. Kelly has to look away, it feels too intimate. “I promise. Stay here, okay?”

“I will,” Sam says, and smirks. “Say hi to Becca for me. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You know me,” Grizz responds, and there’s a moment of silence. Kelly doesn’t turn around. Then, as suddenly as it began, the moment is over, and Grizz comes up by her shoulder. Kelly looks behind her, and sees Sam retreating back into Grizz’s tent. She looks up at Grizz’s face, and finds he’s searching her eyes for something. What, she doesn’t know.

“How’s Becca?” Grizz asks. “Does she miss him?”

“Of course she does,” Kelly says carefully. “He’s Eden’s dad.”

“Right.” Grizz nods. They make their way to the trees, the sun coming down at an angle from above, shining brightly on the crystal snow around them. Kelly puts her hands in her pockets, and Grizz says nothing more.

.

Elle holds the box in her hands, white-knuckled and moonlight pale. She hasn’t been getting much sun, never really did. She matches the hospital walls this way, she thinks. It makes her invisible as she pads down across the empty tile, feet a delicate demi-pointe around corners. The fewer people that see her here, the better. Those who do see her need to think that she is simply dipping in and out, a gesture out of the goodness of her heart. To these people, she is sweet, if not strange. To these people, she is the better face of Campbell Eliot, the smile after the rude gesture, this whole fuck you of a government directive. She knows what she is. She’s a shadow. Even shadows can grow and move.

Soon, this will all be over.

The box is large, but not extensively heavy; the top of it is laden with cans of tuna and microwavable chicken soup. It’s awkward to hold, but Elle manages to wrap her arms around it effectively. She starts to hear voices from down the hall, and she slows her approach. The lights are dim in the hallway, but bright in the wing they’ve appropriated for care. The doorway is left open and abandoned. Inside it, Elle can see one bed occupied with a sleeping patient, a girl she barely recognizes and can’t place with a name. She breeches the entry, holding the box against her chest. Gordie is thumbing through pages of a large book at a desk in the middle of the wing. At a bed close to the door on her right, Jason sits at the end of the blankets, feet kicking aimlessly in open space, humming quietly under his breath. Elle scrunches her nose. His voice isn’t very good.

Two beds down, Helena sits in a similar position, hands crossed over her lap. Her head is bowed down; every twenty or so seconds, she gives a well-timed sniffle. Luke stands directly in front of her, arms perched on her shoulders and forehead brushing the top of her messy ponytail. She shifts uncomfortably, rubbing at her shoulder, and Luke kisses the top of her head.

“Elle,” Gordie says, voice pleasant and soft. “Hey. Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem,” She shrugs with one shoulder. “I brought some things, I thought they might help.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great,” Gordie’s face is drawn and tired, deep shadows under his eyes. Elle is surprised he hasn’t gotten sick, himself. “There’s fewer people here now, thank god, everyone seems to be getting over it, but anything will be good to have.”

Elle spots a vacant bed at the end of the row. “I’ll put them, uh, over there. You can help me sort through it.”

“Sure thing.”

“Am I good, doc?” Jason asks, rubbing at the back of his head. Elle drops the box at the last bed, and slowly makes her way back to the center of the room. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, now, so she sticks them in her back jeans pockets. “I feel so hydrated now, I think I’m okay. Like, I’ve peed three times in the past two hours.”

Gordie’s eyes are strained as he looks at Jason. Elle examines him, too. Jason’s face is warm, but not flushed. Other than looking immensely bored, he seems perfectly healthy. Elle knows through Campbell that Jason had been under observation for the past three days, but looking at him now, it’s hard to decipher why.

“You’ve been good for like 24 hours,” Gordie admits, shrugging. “I just wanted to make sure you were really alright.”

“Well,” Jason throws his arms out to the side. “I appreciate it. Really took care of me there. Feelin’ good as new.”

“You’re lucky we’ve got Gordie, here,” Luke pipes up from his spot in front of Helena. Elle narrows her eyes at him, still unable to get a read on him. If she’s honest, he’s the only member of the Guard she’s never been able to get a real read on. It bothers her. “Who knows what would’ve happened if he weren’t around.”

Jason whistles low. His hair is in desperate need of a cut, curls hanging down over his forehead. It’s only slightly sweaty. Elle wonders if he washed it here, or if Gordie did that, too. “Don’t I know it.”

“Thanks for being a good patient,” Gordie nods. “You’re good to go, I think.”

“Need to sign any papers?”

Luke barks out a laugh. “Fuck off, Jason.”

“Dottin’ my i’s, bro,” Jason chuckles, hopping off of the bed. He looks around, taking in the beautiful sites of the clinical walls. “Anyway. Good fucking riddance, guys. Thanks again.”

Everyone wishes him a half-hearted goodbye, which Jason doesn’t seem to mind. They all listen as he saunters down the hall, humming the same song out of tune the whole way down. It’s only when the door to the wing slams and clicks shut that they all relax, soothing out muscles that they didn’t realize were tense. Helena straightens up, wiping at her nose.

“Were my sniffles convincing?” She asks. “Did I sound sick?”

“You could have thrown a couple more coughs in there,” Gordie admits. “You know, for variety.”

“I thought it was pretty good,” Luke says. “You’re a great actress.”

Helena rolls her eyes. “Right.”

Luke’s face scrunches up in offense, taking a step back. “I meant it.”

Elle grimaces and walks back over to the box on the edge of a bed, opening it up. The three others follow her wordlessly, the four of them part of an initiative none of them have the courage to say aloud. The sick girl snores lightly in her sleep, but Elle eyes her all the same. Gordie blushes.

“I, uh,” he stammers. “I gave her some extra NyQuil. I feel really bad about it, I really shouldn’t have. But she’ll be asleep for a while.”

Elle begins rummaging through the contents of the box, taking out tuna cans and packages of soup one by one, lining them up on the end of the bed. She stacks one too many on the uneven surface, building towers fated to fall. Gordie silently reaches out and grabs two off the top, creating a second stack.

Helena shifts from foot to foot, looking around like someone is going to walk in on them, certain they’re not doing church group in the hospital. “Elle, what is all this about? I mean, I trust you, but your note wasn’t very forthcoming. What’s the date mean? It’s tomorrow, that’s pretty soon.”

“It’s Campbell’s birthday,” Elle responds, all business. Matter-of-fact.

“Campbell’s…birthday.” Gordie scratches at the patchy facial hair growing on his chin. He hasn’t had time to shave. It’s not a great look.

“What?” Luke crosses his arms. “Are we baking him a cake?”

“Already tried that, didn’t work.” They don’t laugh, and Elle’s not about to let them in on the joke. “There’s still fuel at the gas station, right?”

Luke shrugs. “Yeah, loads. The only people that drive their cars anymore are the Guard, I mean, the Council. No one else really uses theirs anymore. There’s not really a lot of places to go.”

Elle nods, taking out more cans. She wraps her hand around the last one and adds it to the pile. This time, Helena reaches out to make sure it stays upright. Elle pauses, looking down at the box.

“Are you sure?” She asks, and the three teenagers tilt their heads in confusion. “Are you sure you want this to change?”

“It can’t go on like this,” Helena asserts. “Everyone’s afraid, we’re running out of food.”

Gordie gestures at the cans. “Even that, that’s gonna put a dent in the supplies at the cafeteria. If they’re keeping track, they’re going to notice. If they’re not, we’re even more fucked.”

Luke groans into his fist. “They’re not.”

“You have to be sure,” Elle says. “One hundred percent certain.”

“I think we are,” Helena responds, looking at the two boys. They nod in unison. They all look so tired. “Are you?”

Elle smiles her small, careful smile. She reaches into the bottom of the box, short arms straining around the lid. She thinks of Thanksgiving, and the days she spent wandering in the cold, far before the snow began to fall. She thinks of the fear, the choices she’s made. Living in the same house, having the same dreams, believing she deserved the same things for months. She still thinks it. She still believes that she belongs in this backwards world, knows in her heart that if there is an afterlife, she will be slated right alongside the tormentors, if only for her intention, for her silence. She’s reached peace with that, now. All that matters is this, and what has led up to it; this adagio of choice, chess moves toward the here and now.

She wraps her hands around the gas cans and lifts them out of the box, placing them on the bed. Gordie’s eyes go wide, while Helena’s lips flatten together in a straight line. Luke looks at them impassively, one finger balanced on his chin. Elle grabs the matches from the box and places them next to the tuna, an Odysseus in a cave.

“You have to be sure,” Elle says. “Because I’m ending this.”

.

Jason walks out of the hospital and heads straight toward Harry’s house, cursing the fact that no one left him a car to drive. It’s fucking cold. He shoots Clark a text that he’s free from his clinical, snot-filled prison, and his friend replies back that they’re about to have a meeting, so he better come along. It’s almost a mile from the hospital to Harry’s place, but he makes the trek anyway, whistling to himself and thinking that this is maybe what got him so sick in the first place, all this walking around outside bullshit. He tugs his hat further down on his ears, trying to ignore the fact that he’s not even a quarter mile from the hospital and he’s already exhausted.

The trees are still, the wind and snow having died a few days ago and leaving behind an eerie transfixion, only broken by the dropping of water down to the ground below. Every branch is caked in plaster, the snow heavy and sticky. They haven’t plowed the road to the hospital yet, but enough people have made the journey that there is a trail of footprints and smashed ice he can follow. His boots are still wet and leaden all the same, and by the time he turns into Harry’s neighborhood, he’s covered in sweat underneath his coat. He shucks off his gloves as he climbs the porch to the front door, rapping his knuckles on the hardwood. Clark answers the door, looking him up and down with an eyebrow raised. Jason knows he sort of maybe saved his life, but he wants to smack him.

“You still look like shit,” Clark remarks, and Jason barrels his way through the door, taking off his coat and hanging it on the banister. He leaves his shoes by the door – he’s not an animal. “I thought you said you felt better.”

“You try walking from the hospital to here,” Jason says, and wipes his curls off his forehead. “I’m fucking drained, dude. I’ve got post-sick weakness.”

“Where’s Luke?”

Jason shrugs. “Helena was at the hospital. Couldn’t stop sniffling, god it was annoying. He was with her, probably swapping spit and getting sick too.”

“Great,” Clark rolls his eyes. “I’ll text him. He should be here.”

They walk into the living room, which is where most of their meetings take place until one of them gets hungry and they migrate into the kitchen. Shoe, Campbell, and Harry are lounging on the couch, while Lexie stands in the corner, back to a bookshelf. She never sits during these meetings, just stands and crosses her arms like she’s holding her chest cavity in. Jason just thinks she’s a bit of an uptight bitch, but she’s been getting more done than Harry or Luke combined, so he’s gotta give her that. She doesn’t have the support in numbers that the Guard has – if things go south, it’s her against the world. He supposes if he thinks about it, he can understand her being so stressed.

It’s obvious that they’ve been talking since before he arrived, and that Lexie was the last to be speaking. Her foot taps impatiently on the wooden floor. She doesn’t acknowledge him, doesn’t even look his way. In fact, no one really pays him any mind, except for a wave from Shoe and a nod from Campbell. Like that really means much. Jason feels a grimace come over his face. He thought there’d be more fanfare.

Lexie launches into speech again as soon as they touch two feet to the floor. “We need to get to the bottom of these things. It’s not looking good.”

“C’mon, Lex,” Clark moans. “Didn’t we just meet to discuss things like two days ago? We’re going in circles, here.”

“Here?” Harry mutters, his leg vibrating so hard Jason can hear it hit the underside of the coffee table repeatedly. “In this same room, here?”

“I’ve been listening to a few conversations,” Lexie says. “I don’t think this plan is going to work out. No one’s going to get behind it, and no one’s going to do the dirty work.”

“Which plan?” Jason asks.

Shoe raises his hand. “Also, as a side note, unless someone’s hoarding them all there are no more pizza rolls in this goddamn town.”

“The plan where we hunt down the fugitives for sport,” Lexie states, looking directly at Campbell. “It’s not going to fly.”

“I would assume otherwise,” Campbell replies smoothly, arms flung across the back of the couch. One sits close to Harry’s shoulder, and the other boy shakes with discomfort. “I mean, they’ve all had plenty of practice.”

“That’s not the same,” Harry bites out, a rare showcase of opinion, and then shuts his mouth.

Clark shrugs, unconcerned. “Lex, you’re thinking about this too hard. People will do anything if we just don’t give them rations or whatever until they agree.”

“Are we really doing the bribery thing?” Shoe asks. “Like, are we committing to that?”

“What we need is someone to be on the inside,” Jason suggests. “Spread a rumor. Doesn’t need to be overt.”

“Yeah, no one will hear it from us, but maybe like, fuckin’ Gretchen, or.” Clark looks around. “Where’s Elle?”

Campbell snaps his gaze to him, previously languid eyes steel cold. “She’s at the hospital, delivering supplies. She wanted to do something nice for the sick people.”

“Oh,” Jason remembers seeing her with the box, blames his still not-quite up to speed brain on the lag. “Yeah, I saw her there. Luke’s there too, with Helena. I’ll text him, maybe he can bring her down.”

Campbell stares at him, lips turned slightly downward in an expression Jason is beginning to identify as discontent. This was new information. Campbell shifts, crossing his right leg across his opposite knee, leaning back even farther into the couch cushions. “Sure.”

“You guys aren’t getting it.” Lexie’s fucking sweating, the front of her hair clinging lightly to her face in damp strands. Jason has half a mind to walk over and put his hand on her forehead to check her temperature, because the girl looks awful. He’s pretty sure that’s maybe what he looked like before he went down, falling halfway down Clark’s stairs as the lights dimmed around him. He doesn’t even remember the trip from Clark’s house to the hospital, just remembers vomiting. A lot. “These people, they aren’t fucking animals. They’re not just going to hunt down the people they used to call friends in the name of an absent law.”

Campbell frowns dramatically, shrugging. “I think I’d care to disagree.”

“We haven’t even set up anything to fight for,” Lexie runs a hand over her forehead. She looks flushed, and upset. Jason is not prepared for her to start crying. “They’re, I’m. They’re not like that, they’re not like you.”

“Like us?” Clark barks out a laugh. “Be careful what you’re saying there, Lex.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Clark steps closer, maybe to placate her, maybe something else, but Lexie slams back against the wall. Harry groans under his breath, covering his eyes with his hand. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Clark puts his hands up in a peaceful gesture, broad palms facing her. “Why don’t you go upstairs, take a load off? We can handle things from here.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Jason chimes in. “Don’t puke all over the floor, Harry won’t like it.”

“I sure fucking won’t,” Harry says.

“What, so you can watch me barf all over myself?” Lexie snaps, one hand in her hair. “You wanna see that get on my clothes, too?”

“How much sleep have you been getting, Lexie?” Campbell asks, voice entirely unconcerned.

Clark takes another step closer, holding out a hand. It’s rough, and calloused, but at the moment, its intentions are only kind. Lexie looks at it as though it’s a knife about to cut her clean through, and she backs up further, sliding into the corner of the wall. Her other hand flies to her hip, and they all cry out in unison as she unsheathes the Glock stashed there and cocks it, shakily aiming it at Clark’s face.

“Fucking hell, Lexie!” Jason cries, backing up himself. His hips meet a decorative table, a vase falling off and hitting the floor. It doesn’t break, but the fake flowers inside of it fly everywhere, and Harry winces. Campbell’s sitting up straight on the sofa, but doesn’t raise his guard, while the other three men hold their hands in front of their faces.

“You don’t get to _do_ that,” Lexie snarls, shaking her head. “You don’t get to act like you’re nice, like you care about me. Like I’m more than just the fucking link to this cesspool of a town. People see me, people are listening to me, but they won’t listen to you.”

“Lexie,” Clark’s voice is low and controlled. “Put the gun down.”

“I earned this gun.” Lexie says. “They won’t listen to you because you’re all monsters. You all want to take these guns and walk into the woods, and shoot until you can’t hear anymore, just because what? You’re fucking butthurt that you couldn’t get elected to take charge the fair way? This whole brute strength thing, I’m over it. I _hated_ Allie, but I won’t kill her.”

“Who said anything about killing?” Campbell asks, and everyone’s eyes flit nervously back and forth between them. He stands, stretching out his arms. Lexie looks like she desperately wants to change her aim toward Campbell, but doesn’t want to leave Clark unaccounted for only a few steps away from her. She also looks like she’s about to cry. “Personally, I just want to see the whole lot shut up away. They need to pay for what they’ve done, but also? We just need to talk to them. We haven’t exactly had that chance.”

Tears are brimming at the edges of Lexie’s eyes. Her hands shake, and the gun tremors with it. “Shut up.”

Campbell takes a step closer, so that he’s level with Clark. Lexie does shift her aim, now, the gun pointed straight at Campbell’s chest. With the way it’s shaking, though, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if it would hit the coffee table, or the ceiling, or him. He just got out of the hospital, he’s not keen on going back again.

“You’re right, Lexie.” Campbell smiles at her. “We need to talk things through. It can’t just be one of us making these decisions – that doesn’t work, right? We need to establish rules.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lexie cries. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“Rule one, shoot to warn first,” Campbell says. “That way, they know we mean business. Only shoot to aim if they retaliate, or try to run.”

Lexie is openly crying now, her face flushed scarlet under heat and duress. She shakes her head again, but only manages to get out a cut off noise of frustration.

“Never shoot to kill,” Campbell asserts. “Not without a reason.”

“What reason is that?” Lexie asks. “Any reason you find?”

Campbell shrugs with one shoulder, disarming. “You know, Lexie, now that you say that, only one thing really comes to mind. Treason.”

In a flash, he brings up his hand and hits the tremoring pistol out of Lexie’s grasp. She doesn’t even have the thought to pull the trigger and it falls, useless, on the floor. It slides under the couch and Campbell takes a step closer to Lexie. He drives out a palm, catching the side of her head with it, and his fingers fist in her listless hair. He carries the momentum and slams her head into the side of the wall, very little restraint coursing through his veins. Lexie’s eyes roll back in her head and she crumbles, eyelids twitching. The others sit in shocked silence, and Jason sits back against the table, the wood thumping against the drywall.

Campbell rolls his shoulders back, stretching his neck to the side. “Well, fuck, then. Somebody restrain her, she’ll come to in a few seconds.”

They all blink, and then Clark curses, stepping forward and gathering her in his arms. Jason takes a step out from the wall. Harry’s muttering under his breath, clearly freaked out by the scene that just unfolded as well as the smear of sweat and tiny drop of blood on the wall.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jason asks. He makes eye contact with Shoe, whose gaze widens in confusion. “I’m sorry, what the fuck just happened?”

“Take her to the hospital,” Campbell dismisses. “She has a fever for sure, tell Gordie she was a danger to herself and that she fell against the wall and passed out. I’ll imply heavily that she be reminded of what actually occurred.”

“You think she’ll keep her mouth shut?” Clark asks, dubious. “Shit, she’s got a really high fever.”

“If she knows what’s good for her, she will,” Shoe murmurs, and Campbell smirks.

“Looks like you’re the big guy in charge now, Harry,” Campbell announces. They all look at Harry, who’s still curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. He lengthens his limbs, frowning, and shakes his head.

“No, no.” Harry is incredulous. “How am I supposed to explain to this whole town of nutjobs that my co-mayor had an accident and left me in charge?”

Campbell shrugs. “Just like that.”

“No!” Harry presses his palms into his eyebrows, moaning in frustration. “What the fuck, no, no one wants to hear from me.”

“I don’t know about that, c’mon,” Campbell comes over and places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, rocking it back and forth. Lexie moans, and Clark grinds his teeth. “Guys, who here thinks Harry should be in charge? Huh?”

Slowly, each of the three of them raise their hands in the air, sharing small, secret glances. Campbell beams, and claps his hand on Harry’s back. Clark walks out without another word, carrying Lexie out to his car. Jason watches as Harry retreats further into himself, biting his lip and wringing his hands. Campbell sits next to him on the couch, fishing the gun out from under it with his foot and casually passing it from hand to hand. He whispers something into Harry’s ear, and he nods. Jason’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Luke.

_Might be late. What did I miss?_

.

Eden wakes her at 4am with a whimpering that soon evolves into a certified wail. Becca’s surprised she slept at all, it’s so cold in the train car. She’s bundled in blankets, Eden lying on her chest in her own cocoon. She understands that it’s safer here, and that they won’t be here forever, but sleeping on her back terrified to turn over lest she fall off the train seat or crush her infant child is _not_ at the top of her list for best sleeping conditions. She gets up and bounces Eden on her hip, pacing the length of the train car and shushing the baby back into sleep. She tries to sing a lullaby, but it doesn’t really work. Only Sam can get her to sleep that way.

She finally falls asleep again, this time sitting up with the blankets piled around her, and she wakes up with a crick in her neck the size of Wisconsin, Eden passed out in her arms. She fishes her phone out of the blanket mound. 11:30am. Her frown is a drastic, pitching expression. Kelly should have been back by now. Becca thought morning would mean morning – they’d been getting up at 7 or 8am each day, either to get up and make breakfast or just talk while Eden fed. She’s surprised she got that much sleep in this eighth circle of hell in a rectangle, but she’s more worried about where Kelly is.

Maybe something went wrong. Maybe she was caught. Maybe she was at the mercy of the Guard, holed up in a basement somewhere. Or the people at the camp were sick, and she stayed to take care of them. Or a wild animal got her. Or –

Eden gurgles, a wet sound, and Becca snaps out of her downhill spiral of hypothetical situations to turn her around and tap her back a little to get her to burp. After it passes, she lays the baby down, supported in a valley of blankets, and gets up to look for breakfast. She needs to escape from her labyrinthine thoughts and just focus on taking care of Eden. If Kelly were to leave, if Sam were to leave, she’d still have to be here, and she’d still have to take care of her baby. Her baby, who still can only eat breast milk express out of Becca’s body. Becca’s body, which is starving, and freezing, and could really use a croissant right now, like fuck.

One thought at a time.

She grapples two protein bars out of the bag Kelly had brought for her, trying desperately not to inhale one in a single breath. In a worst-case scenario, she’d have to conserve her food, stretch it out as long as possible before they made a trek out to a grocery store or a random house to scrounge for meals. In the spring, they’d have the homestead built out in the field, and she and Eden could go back. Even if it was just them.

“This is _not_ a worst-case scenario,” She whispers to herself. Eden gurgles in agreement.

Becca finishes the protein bars and downs half a bottle of water. She paces up and down the length of the train car, desperately weighing in her head if it’s worth it to piss in a bucket. The whole train would smell like pee, but she _really_ has to go. But Eden would smell it, and she would cry. She doesn’t always cry at her own piss, but she’s pretty sure she’d cry at Becca’s. She doesn’t know, but on the scale of things babies cry about, she’d consider that as pretty valid.

She glances at Eden, who is dozing in her blanket mound, and decides to bite the bullet and piss in the great outdoors. She ghosts a kiss over Eden’s forehead, promising to be back in less than a minute, and then scampers to the door. She leaves the second door unlocked and open, but fishes the key out from under the train and locks the big door behind her. She realizes too late that this means she’ll have to leave the first door unlocked when she goes back in and move the padlock from the second door inside. She definitely wasn’t supposed to go outside, but Kelly didn’t say she’d be long enough that Becca would have to go to the bathroom in the goddamn train. Kelly would probably be back any second, really. She was worrying for nothing.

Looking around, she sees a choice cluster of trees just a little closer to the station and makes her way there. Becca quickly relieves herself, the cold air stinging her eyes and making tears form at their edges. She fixes herself up and starts to walk back toward the door when she hears a noise behind her. She startles, clinging to a nearby tree, and looks fearfully at the train platform. A figure stands there, staring at her, unmoving. How did she not see them? How did she not hear them? Jesus, she is so fucked.

“Becca?” A voice calls, and her lungs feel like they could shatter. It’s not Kelly, not by a long shot. She is _so fucked_. It’s a man’s voice, and they start to climb down off the platform, coming toward her. She starts to back up, torn between running back to get Eden, leading them right to her, or sprinting away in the opposite direction. God, she was so stupid, she should have just gone in the goddamn bucket. She sees a mop of dark brown hair, and the man calls her name again. In her panic, she realizes it’s Harry. It’s Harry.

“Oh, god. Fuck,” She whimpers, and then books it back toward the train, tripping over herself. Harry yells at her to stop, and starts running after her. Her heartbeat is all over the place, ricocheting out of her chest and into her throat. She’s going to vomit. He’s faster than her, and she fumbles with the key to fit into the lock. She scrambles up and into the train, but as she tries to slam the door behind her, Harry is there, catching the metal frame with his hands. Becca has half a mind to slam it shut, cutting his fingers off, but he grabs the door before she can do it. She swallows a scream – if he has backup, she can’t let them know they’re here.

Becca makes an executive decision, reaching down and grabbing Harry’s hair in one hand, his shirt in another. She falls to her knees, heaving him upwards toward her. His feet kick at the doorway, scuffing the walls, and then he falls in after her, both of them landing harshly on their sides. Becca gets up, slamming the door behind them and then crashing down on top of Harry, pinning him down with her knees. She holds his shoulders down with her legs, leaning forward and holding his neck down with her forearm.

“What the fuck?” Harry croaks out, squirming underneath her but not managing to get out. Becca can’t believe she’s winning a fight the only way she’s always said she ever could – by sitting on them. She looks down at Harry’s face, gaunt and sputtering shocked profanities. There are bags under his eyes that are darker than summer pavement. Becca thinks about all the shitty things Harry has done, all the horrible, lonesome faces he has influenced Kelly to make, and slaps him across the face.

“Who came here with you?” Becca demands, ignoring Harry’s sharp cry of pain. “Who else saw us here?”

“No one!” Harry thumps his head back against the metal floor, eyes rolling back in his head in a second of existential resentment. “Jesus, no one, I was by myself.”

“They let the mayor go on a walk by himself?” Becca scoffs. “Yeah, right. Where’s the Guard?”

“Let me _go_ , Becca,” Harry groans, giving one more struggle underneath her before flopping into the floor. “No one gives a shit about me, okay, I just told them I was taking a walk.”

“Down to the train station?” Becca asks. “Of all the goddamn places in New Ham, you come here?”

“I always come down near here.” Harry huffs, turning his head to the side. “The Guard won’t pass by on patrol until – look, why the fuck are _you_ here? I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“The hell you do,” Becca snarls. “I’m hiding in this shit hole because of you, and you’re not going to blow my cover to your merry band of psychopaths.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me?” Harry taunts, and Becca tilts her head in contemplation. Sure would solve a lot of problems. Harry’s eyes widen just a little, and then widen more when Eden begins to wail.

“Shit,” Becca bites her lip, torn between quieting Eden and making sure Harry stays put. If Harry’s lying and the Guard is nearby, they’re going to hear her for sure. She looks back at Harry, whose eyes are now trained through the open doorway into the train car. His eyelids flutter, lips twisting into a small frown.

“You have a baby.” Harry’s voice is now a small thing. Becca feels like she could hold it in her hand.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Becca snaps. “Are you just finding this out now?”

“No, I –” Harry shakes his head slightly, eyes in a bit of a daze. “I don’t know, I just. Fuck. I guess I didn’t really believe it.”

“Believe it, buddy,” Becca mutters. “You think Kelly would have spent four months with me just to keep me company?”

“Kelly,” Harry’s eyes snap back to her. “Where is she?”

“Not here.” Eden’s cries grow louder, and the hackles on the back of Becca’s neck are starting to raise. Her heartbeat hasn’t come back down. Fuck, she’s so stressed. She looks down at Harry, who’s not even fighting back against her anymore, just lying on the floor like he’s about to take a nap. Abruptly, she rises from her position, freeing Harry. He looks at her in surprise, but she jabs a finger right into his personal space in front of his nose, eyes on fire.

“Look, asshole,” Becca says sternly. “You have two options. Stay quiet and here, with me, while I make her stop, and you can see Kelly when she comes back and we decide what to do with you. Or you can go and rat me out, but I’ll be gone by the time you get back. And the next time I see you, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”

“Geez,” Harry raises his hands in supplication. “I’m not gonna rat you out, Becca. Who the hell would I tell?”

She gives him a pointed look. They both know who.

Eden wails again, louder this time, and Becca gives Harry one last look before walking into the train car. Harry follows her slowly, staring as Becca picks Eden up and rocks her, muttering soothing nothings. She exposes her breast for Eden to feed from, and the baby latches on quickly, her cries quieted for the moment. Harry’s still staring at her. Becca waves at him and points to her eyes. He startles, looking anywhere but where Eden is feeding.

“So uh. Have you been here the whole time?”

Becca scoffs. “You don’t get to ask questions like that. But no. It’s fucking cold here.”

“It’s cold everywhere,” Harry says distantly. “Heat’s been going on and off, just like the power. Some people have been trying to build fires.”

“Trying?”

Harry shrugs. “They’re not that good at it. And everyone’s been sick, so it’s not like they’re trying very hard.”

“Don’t touch my baby.” Harry looks at her like he has the right to be offended. “You have germs on you.”

“Didn’t get sick.” Harry looks out the window toward the woods, the only window she didn’t draw the curtains over. His words are tinged with something akin to regret. “Guess I’m just lucky.”

Harry sits next to the pile of blankets, still looking out the window. The trees outside sway in the wind, and the doors of the train car creak in its afterthought. Becca regards him, this dirty, sad boy that sits in front of her. She remembers nearly a year ago, before the field trip, when Kelly and Harry were the best couple West Ham money could buy. They were both beautiful, standing tall with shoulders back in the knowledge that they were on top of the world. They had been the ultimate power couple, louder than Helena and Luke, more secure than Clark and Gwen. They were always everything Becca wanted, and hated at the same time.

She thinks of the kindness in Kelly’s eyes, the way she laughs whenever Becca says something dumb or inappropriate. A small laugh, not the one she uses when the joke is actually hilarious. A sharp intake of breath, deep. Becca always feels so intimate, whenever she hears Kelly make that noise. It’s never a noise she heard her make in high school. Looking at Harry now, with all the light drained out of him, she doesn’t feel intimate at all. She thinks it’s more like pity.

“What are you going to do?” She asks him, voice low and serious. He blinks, and then turns to look at her. “What will you tell them?”

Harry sighs, glancing down at his hands. “I don’t think I’m going to tell them anything at all.”

“What, you’re just going to keep this to yourself?” Becca furrows her eyebrows. “If Campbell asks, you’re not going to say anything?”

Harry shrugs.

“Kelly says that you guys are going to start hunting for us, the fugitives.” Harry looks down at his lap, frowning. “For a price, or a bounty. You’re just going to pass up on that?”

Harry shrugs again.

“You could hand me over on a silver platter right under Campbell’s nose –”

“You have a fucking baby, okay?” Harry bursts out, voice deep with conviction and passion Becca hasn’t heard for almost a year. “I’m not just going to. Fuck. You have a fucking baby. A little girl.”

Becca blinks at him, holding Eden tightly to her chest. The wind outside begins to scream, picking up in velocity. “What does that matter? You suddenly have morals now?”

“I know I’m a piece of shit, okay?” Harry throws his head into his hands, grinding his forehead into his palms and smearing his hair against his skin. “I know everything I do is fucked up and wrong. And I know it makes me a piece of shit to say this, too, but I had a baby sister, okay? My little sister, I remember when she was born, when our family was still together, and it kills me every day I live here in my house because there were people in her bedroom, people in my mom’s bedroom, and it’s not theirs anymore. They ruined it, and I know they’re gone, but now they’re really gone, and it’s fucked up to punish a baby. I’m not going to punish your little girl.”

Becca stares at him, and Harry breathes. He braces a hand on the back of the seat, staring at the pile of blankets.

“I didn’t get it,” He says. “When I agreed, it just felt like fugitive. Like I’d get to see Kelly again. And Allie. I didn’t think it would mean what it means, turning you and the baby in. I didn’t think about you having a baby. I didn’t get what it meant.”

Becca swallows the lump in her throat. Eden coos against her, and she clutches her tighter. “Maybe you should have done some more reflecting.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. The trees are swaying hard enough to break. He looks up at Becca again, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” She snaps, venom in her tone. “Don’t think that just because you had a reason, it makes it right. Don’t apologize to me, and don’t apologize to Kelly. Even if you made this right from this moment on, even if you never made a shitty decision ever again, I will never forgive you for what you’ve done. Other people might, but I won’t.”

Harry nods again, swallowing erratically. Eden squirms in Becca’s arms, but she holds her tight. The three of them stay like that, staring at one another, listening to the wind and all it has to say, until there is a sharp, panicked knock on the outside door.

.

Grizz walks Kelly to the entrance to the forest, by the bridge. The trek takes longer than they anticipated, with the journey being mostly uphill and the snow having turned damp and heavy against the ground. He offers to go down to the train with her, but she declines. Acquiescing is a difficult thing, ideas running through his head about what Kelly has said, dark fantasies of what could happen if it’s all true. As she slides down the hill toward the metal structure, Grizz stands still just within the line of the trees, letting the foliage obscure him as he keeps watch from above. He can see the car Kelly is aiming for – all the curtains are drawn, except for one set. He looks around at the empty landscape, and then back to the window. He can’t see any movement.

Kelly had said that she knows the train car wouldn’t be a permanent thing. Just a stop, just for a night or two, and then they’d find their way somewhere else. Looking down at the line of cars, strung together like fairy lights against the snow, Grizz thinks they’re all lucky they weren’t found immediately. Lucky that the people he used to call his friends aren’t exactly on top of their shit – because if they were, if they really cared about policing what goes on in this town, they would have immediately noticed a young girl and a baby camping out in the train yard.

Even he can hear the sharp rapping of Kelly’s hand on the metal door, and panic starts to kindle in his chest. The landscape is silent, save for a few birds and their conversations high up in the branches. The wind howls past, sharp and unforgiving, and it stings his cheeks. He tries to bury himself deeper into the collar of his jacket. At the very least, the sound drowns out the knocking, the echo of the metal. If he can find a time to be grateful for the biting wind, it’s now.

He thinks of Sam, and has half a mind to step out of the forest, settle down into the snow. Anything to make him unfindable. He can feel the presence of something in the woods even now: a slow, creeping thing, a constant whisper in his ear. He felt it the very first time he went into the woods with Luke and the others. He felt it during the expedition. He feels it now, and still he made the choice to walk into the woods. He told Allie that there were greater dangers away from the town, but they had both determined that the greatest danger of all was starvation. He thinks of the emptying box of food in the tent, of Sam’s frightened, wide eyes, and wonders if he made the wrong choice.

He wants to turn back and go to Sam even now, knowing he’s back at the camp helping to console Allie and Will. Taking over for what he can, finding a voice in a crowd that always seems to appear whenever Grizz goes away. He shakes the doubt from his head. He promised Sam he would take care of him, and that means taking care of Eden, and Becca, and Kelly too. Whether Sam wants him there or not, he’s going to keep his word.

Movement jerks in front of the open window. Grizz shifts a little, narrowing his eyes, and sees Becca, a small bundle in her arms. He ducks down and can see Kelly, a little bit, her light brown hair tossing back as she gesticulates. They’re yelling. The wind screams past again, drowning out any thought of hearing their words, but then it dies down. Everyone moves, and Grizz sees a mop of dark brown hair, drooping shoulders. He blinks, trying to see who it is, but they all move again before he can figure it out. He thinks it might be Gordie, but the man seems taller, and why would Kelly and Gordie be fighting? He strains his ears. Eden is crying.

Grizz swings around to the other side of a broad oak tree, trying to get a better vantage point. From afar, he begins to hear the sounds of a conversation, but it doesn’t match the visual input of the three people arguing in the train. He turns his head to the bridge and feels his stomach drop down to his toes. Crossing the bridge from the gas station are three tall, broad figures, chatting amicably but loudly in the cold air. Grizz knows the Guard patrol when he sees it, can remember walking the same dumb route around the town in the beginning days after Allie took charge. The patrol ended around the gas station, looped back toward the school, but they would always cross the bridge, staring at the harsh line of the woods for a few moments. Grizz has to swallow down a pointed disbelief. It gets caught in his throat. They’re still walking the same route.

Grizz fumbles for his phone, watching as the three Guard members slowly make their way across the bridge. Any second now, they could turn and see the sides of the train cars, might be able to see the open window and hear the sounds of an infant wailing. Their texting works within the town limits – thankful that he even still carries his phone anymore, Grizz frantically types out a message to Kelly, trying to watch the movement in the window and on the bridge at the same time.

_Guard nearby. Shut up and get out now._

The figures on the bridge have stalled for a moment, and Grizz peers around the trunk of the oak tree to make them out. It’s Clark, Shoe, and Luke – Grizz frowns, listening to their conversation. Clark is ribbing into Luke, but in a lighthearted manner unique to Clark himself. Grizz can’t see the expression on Luke’s face, but he can imagine it. He hates that he knows this game, knows these people so intimately.

“Took that long to bring her to the doc and get back?” Clark is saying. “You missed the whole meeting.”

Luke takes a second to respond. “She wanted me to stay with her, man, I don’t know what to tell you. She’s feeling real sick.”

Shoe scoffs. “Sounds like she’s being a baby.”

Luke hardens. “Watch it.”

Grizz looks back at the window, and can’t see anyone in line with the glass. He realizes that the three men are still on the side of the bridge that the train platform is in their view. In order to get out and away, Becca and Kelly will have to exit from that side. They’ll be seen for sure.

“Fuck,” Grizz moans under his breath, bringing his hands up on either side of his head. He thinks for a moment, trying to gather up a strategy of some sort.

“I’m just saying, I think Lexie’s going to be out of the picture for the time being,” Clark announces. “You know, until she gets better.”

“What exactly is wrong with her?” Luke asks. “You didn’t bring her to the hospital.”

“Worse off than Jason, needs a special house call,” Clark shrugs, and then stops. Eden’s cry breaks through the atmosphere, the wind dying down at exactly the wrong moment. Grizz freezes, eyes on the bridge. Clark turns. “Shit. Do you guys hear a –”

“Hey!” Grizz steps out from behind the tree, falling forward in the snow. His bellow perks the attention of the Guard, who break their gaze from the train up toward him. He waves his arm for good measure. “Guys! Guys, it’s me!”

He glances down toward the train, and sees Kelly climbing through a gap between the cars. Grizz waves his arm again, this time toward the town, looking down at Kelly for just a second. She seems to get his message, and starts climbing back toward the other side. The three men on the bridge step closer toward him, their faces awash in confusion.

“Grizz?” Luke calls, arms open in questioning. He looks concerned, and confused, but he also looks afraid. “What are you doing?”

Before Grizz has time to answer, Clark’s face transforms from baffled to outraged, features darkening in an emotional corruption. Grizz has just enough brain space to ascertain that this isn’t going to work out well for him before Clark pulls a gun from his hip and aims it at Grizz’s figure.

“Freeze!” Clark yells, breaking into a run and coming directly at him. Grizz stumbles backwards, one shoulder hitting the oak tree. Shoe follows shortly behind Clark, while Luke stands in as much of a shock as Grizz feels. “Don’t move!”

“Fuck.” Grizz stumbles back again, and then turns completely, running into the depths of the forest. He’s immediately off the meager trail they’ve formed, picking up his knees as he sprints through the deep snow.

The wind picks up again, bitter and relentless. A cloud of ice skates off the top of the snow and into Grizz’s face, causing him to stumble as it stings his eyes. The dark greens and muted browns of the conifers whip past his vision as he runs as fast as he can. He’s sweating, and the way he has to pick up his legs reminds him in a morbid way of football practice. Like he’s holding the ball, and Clark’s chasing him as he sprints into the end zone. A sardonic laugh breaks out of Grizz in the form of a sharp breath.

“Grizz, just stop!” Luke yells from somewhere behind him. He sounds out of breath. Good.

“Don’t make me do this, bro!” Clark shouts, and he’s closer. Clark was always one of the fastest of them all, back when all that mattered were player stats and getting picked up by colleges. He keeps going, half his mind caught on the sensation of tearing up the turf beneath his feet. Like he’s drifting between memories, between two parallel worlds. “Just stand down, Grizz!”

“Clark!” Luke screams, a facsimile of a warning. Grizz ducks to the side as a bullet explodes the tree bark next to his head; a chunk of wood catches him on the cheek and arm. He can feel something embedded in the soft skin of his face, but he doesn’t have time to stop and pry it out. Clark swears behind him, and Grizz pivots to the side, stumbling down a small hill and into an area more populated with brush.

He’s leading them back to the camp. He knows this, subconsciously, knows that he’s running in the direction of home and safety like this is some sort of game of tag. Flashes of Sam, of Allie, all of his friends blink in front of his eyes, and he makes a forty-five degree angle compensation, running parallel to where he knows the camp lies, just a mile or so ahead. The Guard follows him blindly, doesn’t know anything otherwise. Grizz heaves his chest and picks up speed. It doesn’t matter where they go, as long as it’s not to the camp, and it’s not back to the train.

Sam will be safe. Becca and Eden will be safe. Now he has to make himself safe.

Clark shoots again but misses low, the bullet disappearing into the snow ten feet behind Grizz. He starts to lose time, just continuing to run into the forest. For all he knows, it could be minutes or an hour. He knows the adrenaline in his veins will only take him so far, but he’s riding it as far as he can. At some point, Luke cries for them to stop and talk, but Grizz isn’t about to fall for that. He understands now, understands with a certainty that came when he heard the gun fire, that Kelly was right. They’re hunting them down, and Grizz made the right decision by protecting his own. They’ve drawn a line, and put Grizz on the other side of it. Maybe he had a hand in doing that, too.

_When our actions do not, our fear do make us traitors_. Grizz shakes his head. Maybe Sam would appreciate him thinking of MacBeth while running for his life later. Later.

He hears the shot more than he feels it; a horrible, loud sound that cuts through the air. Clark’s further back behind him than before, and must get lucky with a shot. Grizz stumbles to the side, like someone pushed him from behind, but keeps running. Luke yells his name, but there’s no way he’s stopping. There’s no immediate burst of pain, just a sharp feeling of coldness in his right tricep. He can’t stop to inspect it, just takes the opportunity to get even more distance between him and Clark. He leaps over a fallen log, skidding around a frozen puddle. He begins to feel his heartbeat pump in his arm, the first beginnings of pain.

Somewhere behind him, someone shouts in frustration, and there’s the sound of someone falling to the ground. Grizz keeps going. He knows these woods better than them, and he needs to leave them behind. He doesn’t quite recognize any of the forest anymore, but he tries not to think about it. Tries not to think about the fear on Luke’s face, the determination settling over Clark’s. Tries not to think about how he can’t quite remember the last thing he said to Sam. How he didn’t make sure Becca and Kelly got away. He hopes they don’t try to make it back to the camp, don’t try to come find him, not with Clark out here, not alone.

The forest is silent around him, even the wind abandoning its post, and Grizz falters. He trips over a lip at the top of a hill and falls, the breath in his chest leaving with him as he topples over the ledge. He slides in the snow, and his ankle catches on something underneath a foot of dense powder. His body snags, flipping in midair, and he lands heavily on his back, his skull coming down last and bouncing sharply against a root under the snow. The world stops with his body. Grizz lays there, dazed, not daring to make a sound. His heartbeat continues to pound in his ears, and he struggles for breath, his chest feeling like someone hit the restart button. He’s been tackled and hit quite a few times in his life, but in this moment he doesn’t feel like he can get up.

He waits for Clark to appear above him, the gun a menacing presence in his hand, but no one comes. Grizz stays silent as the overcast sky passes over him, promising to become a darker grey. His breath begins to even out, and the calm brings on the sharp pangs coming from his ankle and his arm. He knows he’s stuck. He’s lying upside down on the steep decline of the hill, the slight blood rush doing nothing to help the ache beginning to form in the back of his skull. He tries to sit up and reach forward toward his ankle, but quickly falls back, dizzy. He can’t tell if it’s still the adrenaline, or if he knocked his head too hard. He hopes it’s the former – he didn’t lose consciousness, but time is passing faster than before. Either that, or it’s going to snow again. Neither seem like a good option.

Grizz gives his ankle a wiggle to experiment, and has to bite his hand to keep from yelling. It’s caught between a torn segment of root and the frozen ground, his fall downward twisting it into an unfortunate angle. Grizz lies back and breathes, straining his ears for any sign of Clark or the rest of the Guard. Nothing comes, not even the chattering of birds above his head. He can’t even hear their voices, their breath. He sits still for some time, waiting, just in case, riding out the waves of pain. The sky begins its first darkening, and no one comes.

It’s cold. The snow crushed underneath him provides neither a soft bed nor a warm covering, and he’s beginning to feel it seep through his clothes as they steadily dampen. Even water-resistant clothing gets wet eventually, and Grizz has been out in the snow all day. The sweat from his mad sprint sits on his skin uncomfortably, making him colder as his body comes down and settles into something akin to shock. He gives his ankle another try, and then quickly stops. He shifts, trying to peer at his arm. The snow beneath it is pink and red, but not as much as he thought it might be. He reaches with his left hand, fingers shaking and probing, tracing the hole in his jacket. Ice cold fingers touch the hot skin of his arm, and he bites his lip. The bullet must have grazed him, instead of lodging itself into his skin. Grizz sinks his head back into the snow. A graze he can deal with.

He has to get above the root in order to get his ankle out. This is the issue. There’s no way he can maneuver himself back the way he came without seriously straining what he’s beginning to suspect is a broken ankle. Grizz exhales sharply through his nose, trembling. He can’t call for help. No one from camp would hear him, and his phone doesn’t work out here. All it might do is attract the Guard back to where he is, which would be the end, one way or another.

Grizz thumps his head back again, which he needs to stop, but he’s frustrated. He moans under his breath. “I’m so boned.”

He crosses his left hand over his body to his right hip. If he doesn’t have to move his right arm, he’s not going to. He fumbles for the knife he has strapped to his belt, relieved beyond belief that it’s still there and not lost in the snow somewhere. Once he has the knife securely in his hand, he steels himself and crunches upward, relying on core muscles of woebegone workouts. Once he wins the fight against gravity, he curls forward, using the root his ankle is caught in to hold himself in his sandwiched position. It’s uncomfortable, and he aches, feeling like a contortionist, or someone at least vaguely flexible. The position rattles his ankle and pulls on his hamstrings. Grizz shakes out a breath, and then transfers the knife to his right hand. He holds the root with his left, cold fingers brushing cold ankle, and begins to saw away at the wood.

It makes a horrible noise, and Grizz stops several times just to make sure no one is going to sneak up on him. The paranoia is tight and unbearable, but not entirely irrational, so Grizz lets it stay. Each time he saws with the knife his arm aches, but he’s sure that holding on with his right hand would be worse. His fingers are going numb, the thin fabric of the gloves he had been wearing just to walk Kelly to town soaked through and beginning to freeze. When he breathes, it billows out in front of him in a warm cloud. Grizz wants to capture it, wrap himself up in it and rest.

Grizz opens his eyes, not sure when he closed them. He’s more than halfway through the root, his left arm shaking with extended use. The sky above him is growing dark, the sun setting behind the clouds, somewhere far in the west. He curses under his breath. If he’s still here when the sun fully sets, he’s done with. The cold has already set into his bones in a way he knows from wilderness first aid is very not good. He starts sawing away again, willing his hands to curl around the knife and work. He’s not sure if it’s the wind coming through, biting against his skin, but tears begin to prick around the corners of his eyes. They’re warm as they fall down his cheeks, slowly and softly. He clings to the feeling, unwilling to let his chest hitch. Home. He needs to get home.

When the root finally gives way, it snaps underneath him and send him sliding down the decline. He rolls over once, nearly catching on a tree, and then slows to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He breathes for a moment, and then turns over on his side, attempting to reassess himself. It proves nearly impossible; the light is too dim for him to see his ankle correctly, and the cold has impaired his sense of touch. He wants to wrap his ankle, knows he needs to, but everything on him is either wet or underneath the other damp layers. He scoots backwards until his back collides with the trunk of a tree, and he uses it to hoist himself into a standing position. Putting weight on his ankle is painful, but not impossible. Grizz tries to get his brain to focus on his sense of direction, on the way he came and where the camp should be, and he pushes off of the tree.

That’s when the whispers start.

The fading light paints shadows that prickle at his skin, forming goosebumps. He’s not cold anymore. He trudges forward in the direction he imagines the camp might be, feeling the wind kiss his skin through the tears in his clothes. There’s more than he thought, before. The sting is nearly warm, now, and he clings to it. It goes away just as quickly, and it makes his throat catch, unreleased. He thinks of Sam’s forehead against his, soft kisses on his cheekbone, the ridge of his jaw. He’s never felt anything so gentle before – he’s spent every moment of his life trying to make his edges sharper, harder to touch. Every surface is rough, now, and he’s so sick of it.

His ankle aches. It can barely hold him. Clark’s voice flitters through his ears, and Grizz startles, falling against a tree and twisting enough to let out a coarse shout. He whips around, but doesn’t see anything. He lost Clark and Luke long ago. At some point, he finds a fallen branch, and he leans against a log, taking the time to splice off the protruding twigs with his knife. It’s work to get back up again. Emily’s voice tells him that he could stay where he is, and let the snow welcome him home. He’s nearly tempted. Small flakes flutter down and land on his eyelashes, the tip of his nose. He’s not sure if it’s snowing, or if the wind is sending down residue from the tops of the trees. He has no way of knowing, only of hoping.

It hits him like a brick, then, a force in his chest heavy enough to make him almost sink to his knees. Grizz breathes for a moment, just breathes. Clark had _shot_ him. Clark had shot him, and Luke had watched. Everything he had built throughout his formative years, every relationship he had nurtured, has withered and burned away. Grizz can never go back to what he was before. He can never look at his team members, the members of the Guard, and belong. He had drawn the first line, he knows that, but something about this feels final, and it hurts enough that Grizz feels like he’s going to throw up. He didn’t expect to feel like this. Even if he saw it coming, even if he knew ahead of time it might lead to this, it still hurts. He still wants to curl up in the snow.

He sniffles, putting one foot in front of the other. It’s dark now, very dark, and he has no idea where he’s going. He wipes his left hand under his nose, which just makes it sting and throb. He can hear his mother’s voice, nagging at him. He knows Clark and Luke aren’t crying over him. He’s always been too sensitive of a soul.

His makeshift crutch of a branch slips on a rock and Grizz falters, toppling over onto the knee of his bad ankle. He chokes back a scream, folding in on himself. He doesn’t understand why people leave him. Even when they haven’t yet, he knows they want to. He used to see it in his mom’s eyes, waiting for the day he’d leave and go to college. He sees it now, in Will, Kelly, everyone else. Waiting for him to betray them, to be the thing he’s spent so long painting himself to be. That’s the thing, though – he’ll never leave Allie, or Sam. He’ll never stray from the path his morals point him on. He supposes Clark and Luke don’t see it that way. He wonders which is a greater betrayal.

By the time he sees the flashlights cutting throughout the landscape, it’s well into the night. He tries to shout, but his throat doesn’t quite work, and the words get stuck somewhere beneath his tongue. Allie and Bean find him there, leaning heavily on his branch to the point of bruising on his arm, tear tracks mixing with the blood on his face. It’s warmer than the wind. The girls scream for help, and he wants to tell them to be quieter. He doesn’t. He’s not shaking anymore, but they are. The rest of them come running, and after all of that, a part of Grizz wants to turn around and walk back the other way. There’s no one big enough to lift Grizz on their own, so Mickey and Will each take an arm and help him toward the tents.

Kelly’s not there, nor is Becca and Eden. They gather him into his tent, spreading out a workspace. Sam looks at him from above with tears in his eyes, questions on his tongue. Grizz regards him, the way his eyes shine even in the dark. He wants to sign something to him, but Allie is pulling off his coat, saying something about blood, and hypothermia. Grizz has only read about that in his first aid books. It doesn’t feel like it can be real. Someone’s outside, warming water. Kelly’s not there, so it’s Bean that cleans the graze on his arm, wrapping a bandage around tightly. It’s Bean that palpates his ankle, Allie that puts a piece of fabric in his mouth as he struggles not to scream, Sam that cards fingers through his wet hair. They place water bottles full of warm water under his armpits, in between his thighs.

They try to ask him what happened, but he just shakes his head. He doesn’t have words for it yet. He falls asleep after he starts shivering again, replaying the sound of the gun firing over and over in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning descriptions:
> 
> in the second part of the first scene, Will has a panic attack after encountering the presence in the woods. Grizz, Allie, Kelly, and Gwen are all present, and Kelly helps him out of it.
> 
> in the scene that starts with Jason leaving the hospital, there is gun violence and general violence later in the scene when a feverish Lexie draws a gun on Clark and Campbell. There is no firing of the gun, but hand-to-hand violence from Campbell unto Lexie.
> 
> in the final scene, there is gun violence and general injury resulting in blood. Chasing Grizz into the forest, Clark fires his gun and grazes Grizz's shoulder. Later in the scene, Grizz falls down an incline, injuring his ankle and hitting his head. 
> 
> Thank you all again, much love!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! here we are, the time has arrived for the end of this story! I had such a fun time writing this in wait for season 2, and it means the world to me that you're reading this and that some of you have expressed such wonderful compliments. If you've liked this story, please drop me a comment and a kudos! 
> 
> content warnings for this chapter include depictions of fire.
> 
> thank you all again <3

**v.**

**“Which is better – to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?”**

_– William Golding, Lord of the Flies_

They run, ducking around the end of the train and into the edge of the forest. Tracing the perimeter of the town is harder than it may seem, with the amount of green space and outcroppings the small town of West Ham already had. They run for over a mile, tripping over logs and snagging branches on their clothes, sweating through socks and heavy undershirts. Their paces finally slow somewhere behind the football field, a long way’s away from the train station and the threat of discovery. Kelly waits until they stop, hands on knees and heartrates high, to turn on Harry.

“I’m sorry,” she says, eyebrow twitching in panic and frustration. “What the fuck just happened?”

Harry tries to hold up his hands in supplication, but quickly supports himself on his knees again. He hasn’t been getting in his cardio. “I don’t know. Fuck, I need a minute.”

“You lied!” Becca wheezes. Eden is whimpering where Becca holds her against her chest, threatening to cry again. Kelly doesn’t blame her. She wants to cry too. “You said no one was following you, that no one would see!”

“No one was following me,” Harry stresses. “And no one did see.”

Kelly takes a step forward, pointing a finger at Harry’s chest. “You put her in danger.”

“She did that herself!”

“Grizz,” Becca breathes, horrified. “They went after Grizz.”

“Why are you here, Harry?” Kelly asks, nose turned up in anger.

“Because she decided that after I saw her, I couldn’t rat her out to anyone!” Harry gestures wildly at Becca, and then leans against a tree. He throws his head back against the bark.

“She was right to do that,” Kelly spits.

“Yeah, right.”

“When in the past year have you given me any reason to trust you?” Kelly can’t hold back the raw emotion in her outburst. “Any reason at all?”

“Okay, you.” Harry stops, standing up straight. He runs a hand over his mouth, raising his eyes to the sky and taking a step back. His lips curl up in a snarl. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Can you guys stop?” Becca cries. They both turn to look at her. She’s fuming, all 5’1 of her threatening to melt the snow with her anger. “Just fucking, cut it out. Do we have a plan? What is our plan?”

Kelly throws one more glare at Harry before crossing her arms, turning out to look past the football field. “We keep walking.”

“Until when?” Becca asks. “Until my feet fall off?”

“Until we reach the nursing home on the edge of town,” Kelly replies. “They might have some medical supplies there, and food. We all sort of forgot about it, seeing as no one lives there. Obviously.”

“Cassandra didn’t forget about it,” Becca shakes her head. “I remember someone talking about checking it out, early on. But then…everything happened. I don’t know if anyone ever went.”

“I imagine it wasn’t super high on Allie’s priority list,” Harry says snidely, and both the girls frown at him.

Kelly shifts her bag up further onto her shoulders. “We need somewhere to go, where no one will think to look for us. I think it’s our best bet.”

“Anything will be better than that train car,” Becca mutters. “Do you think they got him?”

“Grizz will be fine,” Kelly says, because she needs to believe it. The last thing she saw before they all booked it in the opposite direction was him disappearing into the trees, the Guard close behind him. She knows Grizz would never purposefully lead them back to the camp to be sitting ducks. She just hopes he doesn’t decide to be a martyr. Becca puts down her things to fish the papoose out of her bag. She hadn’t had time to put it on before they ran, and it hadn’t been a comfortable escape for her or Eden. When she stands, Kelly gestures for all of them to move on. “While the sun’s still up.”

Kelly has always resented winter. It wasn’t a conscious or a wanted anger, but it was one that lingered throughout every year. The sunset at four in the afternoon, before she had even gotten out of her extracurriculars. Driving home in the dark. Day after day of the same bleary, gray drabness, melding time into something untraceable. Combine that with high school, and out comes something to hate. Before, she had at least had consistent central heating. Now, she hates winter even more.

She can’t help but think of Grizz, and she knows the others are doing the same. Maybe not Harry, but she hasn’t been able to read him in some time. She can tell that Becca is thinking about it, though, and by extension thinking about Sam. She thinks about the gunfire she heard. She wants to bring it up, but can’t think of anything to say. She wonders if Becca heard it, and knows she did. There is no way she wouldn’t have.

The football field is slightly more elevated than the rest of the town, sitting solemnly and empty above the school. The journey around the academic buildings and down toward the west edge of town is a quiet one, made easier by the light decline. The wind bites at her clothing, and Becca walks with her arms crossed in front of her, protecting Eden from the harsh gales. Kelly tries to remember if any winter has ever been so unforgiving, but draws a blank. In reality, she’s always just been inside, only emerging for ice skating and photo ops on mild, snowy days. She scoffs. Every day that she remembers who she used to be, she feels ignorant and small.

She doesn’t have words for how cold it is, and how heavy every step forward seems to be. With every breath, moving her chest becomes just a bit more labored, and she has no words for it, nothing to say. Before, she didn’t need them, and now she has no vocabulary for this kind of living.

Will’s house is just beyond the west edge of the town, obscured and erased by the forest. At least, that’s what he told Kelly. She’s fairly sure no one ever visited Will at his house in high school, not even Allie. Kelly never thought to consider why and now, in the echoing absence of an explanation, it’s all she can think about. The nursing home is just before, hugging the line between town and space. Bushes and ivy curl around the edges of the far wing, threatening to overtake it and turn structure into nature. As they approach, they come out from the woods and step onto the pavement. It’s slick, and Kelly hooks an arm through Becca’s to make sure she doesn’t slip and fall. There’s no one on the road, and no one following them. Whatever Grizz had planned with his diversion, it worked.

They walk around to the front door. Frost clings to the glass looking into the atrium. Kelly presses her hand against it and looks in, peering at the abandoned front desk and shadows littering the entranceway. She tries the door handle, pulling it toward her. It doesn’t budge.

“It’s locked, I think,” Kelly says, frowning. She didn’t think it’d be locked. She starts to run through her head how they’re going to break into the building without leaving a window shattered for the wind to come through.

Harry rubs his nose into the crook of his elbow. “This blows.”

Becca lets out an exasperated moan. “Can you shut the fuck up, Harry?”

“Let me try again,” Kelly tries to mediate, tugging again at the door. It moves slightly, but doesn’t open. She beckons Harry over to help her, and they each position their grip on the handle, digging their heels into the crevices of the concrete and pulling on the door. On their third try, it busts open with a sharp crack near the door hinge, a sheet of ice falling away and crashing down on the walkway.

“See?” Kelly says, smiling. She’s out of breath, and the wind hurts her lungs. “Just frozen shut.”

“One in a million, Kel,” Becca says, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Now get inside the building, my toes are going to fall off.”

They file in through the door, and Kelly locks it manually behind her. She’s not sure how much that’ll do, so she drags over a chair and props it against the glass for good measure. The four of them loiter in the atrium, unnerved by the silence and unsure exactly what to do. Kelly thought that if all the adults were to disappear, even those needing assistance, that they would just vanish from the face of the earth, leaving behind whatever it is they were doing at the time. New Ham defies this expectation. As they walk through the silent halls of the facility, taking stock of their surroundings, there are no wheelchairs left in the middle of the hallway. There are no rogue Jello cups uneaten, or even beds unmade. The whole town is constructed as though everyone just put away their things and walked out of their homes, away into the forest. Each time Kelly walks among the trees, part of her is certain she could walk far enough and find her parents living somewhere in the pines, away from this town and in this new world. Even an unfinished note on a computer screen would give her closure. She keeps looking for signs of disruption, of struggle, and finds none.

Harry manages to voice the train of thoughts in her head simply. “This is really goddamn eerie.”

They stop under an unlit ceiling light, next to a nurses’ station. Kelly wipes three fingers across the surface of the counter, dragging up nearly a year’s worth of dust on her skin. She blows it off into the air, and Becca scrunches her face up, still half obscured by her thick scarf.

“You’re going to make me sneeze,” She complains.

“What do you think?” Kelly asks. “Should we look for the kitchen?”

“Can we find somewhere to put our stuff down?” Becca asks, shifting. “I’m exhausted, Kel.”

A form of shame washes over her, along with her own exhaustion – she didn’t get much sleep to begin with, and the morning at the camp with Will’s hallucinations seems like it was weeks ago. Kelly feels bad. For weeks since she had the baby, Kelly has been trying to make sure Becca doesn’t overexert herself, or stress too much. It’s stressful enough, having a baby. Kelly thought she could take some of the other bullshit off of Becca’s shoulders. And here she was, making her flee miles through a forest, relocating from strange place to strange place.

She nods, swallowing a lump in her throat. “I’m sure there’s a lounge somewhere. If not, there’s lots of rooms.”

“I’m not sleeping in some old lady’s deathbed,” Harry mutters.

“I’d rather you not sleep here at all,” Becca gripes.

“If you want me to leave, I can,” Harry shrugs. “If that’s your permission for me to go, I’ll just make my way– ”

“No.” Kelly and Becca speak in unison. Eden gurgles her agreement.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m dead.”

“Honestly? Everyone’s just going to think you’re high, Harry.” Becca tosses her hair back with a jerk of her head. “Has anyone even texted you?”

Kelly sneaks a look at Harry, who doesn’t even make to pull out his phone to check. His eyes are trained on the tile of the floor as it passes by, hands stuffed into his pockets. It’s a strange thing, to be with someone you used to know everything about. It’s like seeing something you used to be able to touch trapped behind glass. She knows Becca’s comment hurt him, but she doesn’t do anything about it, doesn’t say anything to make him feel better. Harry, for his part, just grows more distant, and doesn’t say anything more.

They find a lounge around a corner, a small waiting area for families filled with armchairs and couches. They drop their bags into a pile by a lamp and push some of the furniture together to make beds. Becca pushes one of the armchairs up against the wall and then buffers the four sides with cushions, placing a now sleeping Eden inside. Kelly wishes they could have taken the crib from her house, but it will have to do. Harry’s sitting on the floor. Becca collapses into one of the couches, moaning with exhaustion. It’s four in the afternoon.

“I’m going to go look for the kitchen,” Kelly announces softly. She looks at Becca, and decides that she should stay to rest. “Becca, yell or call if you need us.”

“Us?” Harry asks.

Kelly sighs. “Get up, Harry.”

“We just sat down,” Harry says, shifting on his hands. He rubs his face a little bit, eyebrows furrowed, and looks at Becca. “I can’t believe you slapped me in the face.”

Becca glances over at him, eyes awash with vindication. “You want another one?”

“Alright, come on.” Kelly pulls at Harry’s arm until he’s standing. “Step one to making reparations, helping me find food for us and the camp.”

“Now I’m feeding traitors,” Harry says, but there’s nothing behind it. He sighs heavily. “Living the dream.”

Becca lies back to nap. The kitchen turns out to be relatively close by to the lounge, but it’s slim pickings. Most of the food in the fridge is way past due, so much so that Kelly slams the door shut as soon as she opens it, gagging slightly. The cabinets are more promising, with cans of preserved fruit, chicken noodle soup, chili. Kelly grabs a bunch of the cans, piling them into her now emptied backpack until it’s full to the brim and hard to zipper. There’s still several left over, enough to feed a couple of people for a week or two. The cans in her bag will only feed the camp for a week, if they spread it out, but there’s nothing else they can do. Kelly hopes that maybe there’s some more supplies throughout the building, but she doesn’t have time to check.

“Tomorrow,” She begins, hoisting the heavy bag up onto her back. She winces with the weight. “You need to begin combing the building, checking to see if there’s any more nonperishables anywhere else, maybe a nurse’s lounge or something.”

Kelly walks out of the kitchen, focusing on keeping her posture upright on the way back to Becca. Harry frowns, following her out.

“Tomorrow.” He repeats. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I need you to do that for me.” Kelly pauses for a second, looking back. She can only make eye contact with him for a moment before she tears herself away. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah, I guess.” Harry huffs. “Kelly, come on. What is all this? We could go back to my place, we don’t have to stay here.”

Anger boils in the pit of her stomach. “You would have to be an idiot to believe that.”

“Kelly.”

“Do you seriously think that the world works the way you want it to?” She spits at him. “Nothing just happens because you say so. You are a puppet in Campbell’s town right now, and Campbell? He’d love to see my head on a stake in front of the church, if he had his way. Because I helped Becca give birth to Eden, and I protected them. A girl who had a baby with Campbell’s brother, who he’s never been quiet about hating. That’s at least three levels of treason in his book, and no affiliation with you is going to save me.”

“Campbell will listen to me,” Harry asserts. “I can make him listen, we can go home –”

“Open your eyes!” Kelly whips around, the heavy bag pulling on her shoulders. She squares them anyway, steel and spite. “This isn’t about _me_ , Harry. None of this has ever been about me. And you’re a fool for thinking for a second that it was ever about you, either.”

Harry blinks at her. She turns around and walks briskly back toward the lounge. It’s obvious that Harry has more words caught in his throat, but he doesn’t say any of them. Becca is sitting up on the couch when they return, evidently having heard every word of their brief argument. She eyes the bag on Kelly’s shoulders and frowns, eyes questioning. Kelly holds onto the resolve she was just feeling, tilting up her chin.

Becca stops her before she can begin. “You’re not going again.”

Kelly deflates immediately under her gaze, and her eyes go to the floor, all previous confidence washed away. She holds onto her willpower instead. “I have to find Gordie.”

“No, you don’t.” Becca leans forward, grabbing her knees. “You need to put that down, sit your ass down on one of these couches, and rest.”

“Someone has to get these to the camp,” Kelly argues.

“You can do that in the morning.”

“Gordie needs to get away from all of this,” Kelly says. “He’s been dealing with the town for too long, and once they start looking for us, they’ll go after him, too. I can get him to come here, and take care of you while I go back to the camp. Once I go and make sure everyone is safe, I’ll come back.”

“And who’s going to keep you safe?” Becca asks. “Now that the Guard is out in the words, looking for everyone. Have you thought about that?”

“Someone has to tell them what’s going on.”

Becca lets out a frustrated noise. “You’ve already done that. You’ve done it, Kelly.”

“Someone has to tell them about Grizz,” Kelly stresses. Becca’s eyebrows flicker. “Someone needs to tell Sam about Grizz.”

Becca’s mouth closes, jaw working. She looks away from Kelly and stares at the upholstery of the couch, fingers picking at stray pieces of fabric. Harry looks between the two of them, expression confused.

“What the fuck am I missing, here?” He asks.

Neither of them acknowledge him. Kelly stares at Becca until she looks back at her. The girl’s eyes are full of tears, hand shaking where it pulls at the strings. In her sleep, Eden makes a soft, troubled noise.

“Stop running,” Becca says. Kelly blinks, the bag weighing heavier on her back. “Stop running away, and rest.”

“You look exhausted, Kelly,” Harry adds softly, and somehow, damn him, that’s what does it. Kelly wipes at her eyes and takes the bag off of her shoulders, letting it clunk onto the tile floor. She sinks back on her heels, bringing her arms up and over her head, crashing down around her ears. She rocks back and forth a couple of times, breathing through a hitch in her chest.

“Fuck,” she says. “Fuck.”

“We can protect them,” Becca tells her, nodding purposefully. “We can protect them. We’ll go in the morning.”

Harry sits down near her, not quite close enough to touch. Kelly’s grateful for it. She shakes her head. She starts to speak, and her composure breaks. “I think it’s too late. I think. Fuck. I think they shot him.”

A sob breaks loose in her throat and she rocks forward, legs falling around her and crossing forward. She sits on the cold tile floor, feeling her breath buckle without command. If Becca wants her to stop moving, this is what she will get. Kelly wraps her breath around the block in her throat, sobbing again on the exhale. When she looks up, Becca is crying too, big tears making their way down her pretty face. Harry stares at them, face washed in shock and slow comprehension. Kelly reaches a hand forward, and Becca grabs it, fingers interlocking and holding each other tightly. Only just not tight enough to bruise. They breathe together, young and afraid. The sun begins to set behind them, windows leaking in the last moments of light before the four of them are bathed in darkness.

.

Grizz is asleep, taking slightly labored breaths with his head tilted back, the air passing in through his nose and out of his mouth in a cloud of frigid evidence. Sam sits in the entryway to the tent, the door secured open. He glances back every now and again to make sure Grizz doesn’t wake up, or that he doesn’t shift and knock his leg from its elevated position, cushioned on three stacked backpacks and a pillow. Bean sits with Sam, hands moving in a flurry as she tries to translate what the others are saying. They’re all sitting with their backs to the fire, facing the tent. Will stands, occasionally pacing back and forth the short distance between wood and fabric. Bean’s trying her best, and Sam is trying to pay attention, but he’s still missing a lot. She’s not as good as Becca is, takes too long to spell out the words she doesn’t know. He stares at her hands anyway, his own palm placed delicately on top of Grizz’s uninjured leg.

_They tried to kill him_ , Bean says, moving her lips deliberately as she attempts to sign, and then faces Sam for a moment. _Gwen thinks we need to go back to town and confront the Guard._

Sam shakes his head, biting his lower lip. Even the thought makes his heartbeat race, but mostly he’s just sad. He’s sick of this talk of what to do. He wants to close the flaps of the tent, curl into Grizz’s side, and will this all to go away. He wants to know that Becca and Eden are safe, only ever a few feet away. The longing creaks in his ribs as he breathes, holding in a breath in a futile effort to expand his lungs and expel the pain. Grizz shifts under his hand, and Bean steals a glance at his face. He must have groaned in his sleep. Sam releases the breath, disappointed when the sensation remains.

_Allie thinks that’s a bad idea,_ Bean tells him, and Sam nods. _But we can’t just sit here and wait for Campbell and the Guard to find us. If what Kelly says is true, they’re looking for us now._

“It’s true,” Sam mutters, signing back. He gestures to Grizz. “How could it not be true?”

Bean shrugs. _We’re talking a matter of prevention versus retaliation._

Sam pulls his lips to the side. “We’re talking about both, if we go back.”

He turns his head toward the others now, trying to read what they’re saying on their lips. Most everyone is silent currently, looking at Allie. Her arms are crossed, chin dipped down as she contemplates exactly what to say.

_There are only seven of us, six since Grizz is out._ She rubs the back of her head, frowning. She sighs heavily, condensation marking the emotion in the air. _Even if we split up, that’s not enough people to take on the Guard or protect us against them. We need to outnumber them in any scenario._

_So we don’t fight back_ , Gwen says.

_So we don’t do it like that,_ Allie retorts. _It doesn’t make sense._

Will raises his hand in some effort to grab everyone’s attention. Sam focuses on him. He’s starting to get a headache. _Hate to state the obvious, but. Grizz and Kelly both left, and only Grizz came back._

Barely, Sam thinks, but reins it in. A hot, bubbling source of rage kindles within him, just below the pain in his chest. It mixes in with the sharp coldness of his panic and fear, dissipating in logic, but it’s still the only thing that seems to be keeping him warm.

_We don’t know if Kelly, or Becca are safe_ , Will stresses. _If the baby is safe. Grizz didn’t say._

_Grizz wasn’t in a place to say,_ Gwen argues. _Because they shot him._

Grizz shifts again, rolling in his discomfort, in his pain. They have no pain medication, no booze, nothing to deal with this situation. It wasn’t one of the many they’d dreamed of.

Sam coughs. “We need Kelly.”

Allie nods. _Or Gordie. Grizz’s first aid book isn’t enough._

_We don’t know if the Guard is still out there_ , Mickey says. _We can’t just wander through the woods_.

“You know what Grizz said,” Sam argues. “No one goes out alone. Not with the Guard looking, and not with that thing out there.”

At the mention of the presence, they all fall silent. Will shivers, clutching his own biceps and turning away. Sam looks back at Grizz. His hair has fallen over his face, greasy and damp with sweat. Sam is certain that Grizz must have encountered the voice while in the woods. There’s no way he couldn’t have, injured and alone in the snow. Bean hypothesizes that he might have a slight concussion, but nothing bad enough to have to keep waking him up throughout the night. And still, Grizz had said nothing as they dragged him back to the camp and laid him down. Sam had watched the empty gaze waver and break before he had fallen asleep, not waking even as Sam had rubbed life back into his cold hands and feet. Sam thinks of Campbell. He realizes that he has no idea what it could be that Grizz would hear. Maybe his parents, maybe something else.

It’s a horrible thing, realizing you don’t know someone as well as you think you might. Sam couldn’t paint Grizz’s nightmares out on the canvas of the snow. He couldn’t tease out the reasons he is so gentle, despite holding rawness and weight in his hands. He just knows he aches to protect it, and that he couldn’t succeed.

He thinks of Becca, and it twists his chest so much that he pushes the thought away.

_I’ll go back to the town,_ Bean volunteers, breaking the silence. _I can get Gordie, and bring him here. He shouldn’t be there alone, not now._

_I’ll go too,_ Gwen offers. _To get us both through the woods. I’ll look for Becca and Kelly._

No one objects, although it seems that everyone wants to. Allie nods, and stares at the ground. She’s good a that – staring at the icy covering like she’s willing grass to grow. Bean rises from her position across from Sam, seemingly to get her bag, and Sam catches her wrist before she can get too far.

“Be careful,” He emphasizes, looking her in the eye. She smiles at him, and nods.

_Don’t let him move his ankle around_ , She says, nodding toward Grizz. _We’ll be back soon. All of us._

“You better,” Sam says, and then lets her go. There’s no use waiting around, and the two girls quickly gather their things to go. The sun is already high overhead, listing slightly toward the east. In the winter sun, they only have a few hours before the world plunges once again into night, not a lot of time to go find their friends and bring them back. Sam rubs his thumb on the inside of his opposite palm. He doesn’t like the idea of Bean and Gwen traveling in the dark, but he doesn’t like the idea of not knowing about Becca and Eden more. None of them know how to tell if Grizz’s ankle is broken or not, or how to fix it. They need their whole group together.

He hopes their whole group still exists. That twists an ugly fear in his stomach, and he pushes it away. He can’t think like that.

Sam pads his way back into the tent from the entryway, untying the flaps and letting them fall. It makes the inside of the tent much darker, even with the sun outside, but Sam doesn’t move to light the lantern. He just stares at the crack of light in between the unzipped flaps, watching as everyone gets up from the log and disperses. There are only five of them in the camp right now, and Sam isn’t even positive Mickey will stay. Each day he seems to shiver a little more, stare off at the woods a little longer. He wouldn’t blame him if he returned, pledging his loyalty to the Guard, but it worries him what kind of information they’d make him give up in order to let him stay. Allie’s been keeping a closer eye on him. They can’t let that happen.

Sam turns back to Grizz, looking down at his face. Even in his rest, there’s a crease in his brow. Sam reaches out gently, casting a thumb over Grizz’s forehead, trying to soothe it. Grizz’s eyes twitch, and he opens them blearily. He looks at Sam, and Sam tries to smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” He says, but he regrets reaching out to him. Grizz is supposed to be resting.

_Hey_ , Grizz smiles back at him, but then seems to remember the pain, and grimaces. He shifts his gaze to look down at his ankle, and then frowns down at his arm. He makes no effort to move either of them, though, just looks back at Sam’s face. _What time is it?_

“Around one in the afternoon,” Sam supplies.

Grizz scrunches his nose, and throws his unharmed arm limply over his face before he lets it fall so his mouth is exposed. He moans. _What day is it?_

“Friday,” Sam says, although he has no fucking clue. “February 4th.”

Grizz’s lips split into a grin. _Ten days until Valentine’s Day. What are you gonna get me?_

Sam huffs, shifting so that both of his legs are crossed under him. His pointer finger hooks around Grizz’s pinkie, and he tugs both of their hands onto his lap. “Nothing special. Three dozen roses, gourmet truffles. If you’re good, I’ll make a reservation at your favorite restaurant.”

_Pepe’s Pizza_ , Grizz groans in longing, and laughs lightly at Sam’s look. _Were you thinking more like steak?_

Sam shrugs. “I want filet mignon. Surf and turf. Crème brulée.”

_Expensive tastes._

“I’m worth it,” Sam says. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Grizz’s expression turns stormy, and he attempts to shift; all it does is cause him to flinch, and Sam reaches out to still him. Grizz exhales, a long and weary thing.

_Becca and Eden_ , Grizz says, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. Tears brim at the corners of his eyes. _Kelly. I don’t know if they got away. I think they did, but I don’t know._

Sam swallows. “Who chased you?”

Grizz closes his eyes. _There were three. Shoe, Clark, and Luke. Clark had the gun._

Sam tries to take a deep breath and fails. Grizz’s pinkie tightens around his finger. “All three of them went after you?”

_I think so._ Grizz drags a hand over his face, biting his lip so hard it looks painful. He looks exhausted, despite having slept the morning away.

“So they probably got away,” Sam continues. “If there were just the three, and they all went after you.”

_There was someone there, though._ Grizz turns his head to look Sam in the eyes, his irises coated with misplaced shame. _In the train car._

“Who?”

_I think it was Gordie,_ Grizz says. _But I don’t know._

Sam tries to wrap his head around that. It’s obvious that Grizz doesn’t want to talk about his night in the woods alone yet, and Sam can respect that. If Gordie is with Kelly and Becca, then they’re all together, and that’s good. He can hope that at the end of the day, five friends and his baby will walk through the break in the woods. He holds onto that hope like a lifeline.

He clenches Grizz’s finger, other hand ghosting over his hair. “How are you feeling?”

Grizz swallows, looking up at the ceiling again. A lone tear escapes from his left eyelid, tracking its way down his cheek. He doesn’t answer Sam. He just closes his eyes, holding on tightly to him and breathing. Sam wipes away the tear from Grizz’s skin, casting his fingers through the strands of his hair. He doesn’t say anything else, just sits there, humming under his breath in broken tones. He can’t know if they’re pretty, or even comforting, but he does it all the same, if only to feel the vibration in his throat.

.

It’s dusk when Helena worms her way into the forgotten shed sitting at the back of the play yard, past sunset by the time Luke joins her. The room is cramped and musty, the wooden floor offering nothing to ease the shaking in her bones. The cold is relentless, and will not let up. Luke extends his hand to her, but it does little to soothe their shared anxieties. They sit there, among the cans and the gardening spades, not saying a word. By the time Elle opens the door and slides in with them, Helena can see stars littering the sky.

“Where’s Gordie?” Luke asks, voice lower than a rasp.

“He’s not coming.” Elle looks down at the cans. “Did you get everything?”

“Of course I did, I’ve spent three days sneaking to the station and back,” Luke growls. He brings up a hand to scratch at his chin, studded with prickly stubble. He can’t grow much more than a patchy mess, but he hasn’t had the mind to shave. Helena stares at a slight bald spot on his lower left cheek. “What do you mean, he’s not coming? He’s a part of this.”

“We can’t risk him getting caught,” Helena explains. “He’s already tied to the fugitives, Campbell’s just waiting for one excuse to arrest him, or worse. Plus, he’s the only medical person we have. He’s not exactly expendable.”

Luke’s stare is glaring under the fractured moonlight. “What, and you are?”

Helena has nothing to say.

Elle is impatient, her foot tracing anxious circles on the dirty floor. “The celebration is over, Campbell is asleep. But he’s a restless sleeper, he’ll wake up sooner or later to go to the bathroom. We need to go now.”

The rest of them stand, awkwardly bumping into each other, trying to remain silent. Helena slams her elbow against a work table and bites her lip, cursing under her breath.

“What did you do to celebrate?” She tries to ask, like they’re catching up over lunch. She reaches down and grabs a can, holds it on her hip so she doesn’t drop it. Elle hunches down and grabs the other. Luke can hold two.

“We made dinner and cupcakes together,” Elle recites their activities like she’s reading it off of a board, her tone bored and detached. “Then we watched a movie and had sex. He thinks he might be coming down with something, so he went to bed early. He didn’t leave my side the whole night.”

“Sounds great,” Luke drones. “Very domestic.”

Elle blows out air through her nose. “Sure.”

The wind is still present, but not nearly as unforgiving as it was the night before. It casts across the yard, the light catching across the scattering of snow. There’s not much left in the Eliot yard, the sun and lack of trees melting away the majority. Still, they don’t dare touch the frozen, wet grass, instead moving purposefully toward the back porch. Helena steps carefully from frozen patch to frozen patch, choosing the spots least likely to leave footprints. The closer they get to the house, the more her stomach tries to crawl its way back up through her throat. Her heartbeat is erratic and strong. She tries to swallow down her nausea. They have to do this.

“Are we sure?” She asks anyway. Elle pauses on the steps of the porch, looking back at her. She’s frowning, her eyebrows furrowed. When Elle becomes focused on something, she sticks to it. Helena has admired her determination in the months she’s gotten to know her. Now, it frightens her, just a little. “This is the way?”

Luke looks down at the dead weeds poking through the porch floorboards. Elle grimaces, her grip around the can tightening.

“I’ll meet you guys in the front,” She says instead, gesturing with her chin. “Be quick, stick to the walls.”

Elle moves silently away, opening the sliding back door and disappearing inside the house. Helena chances a look at Luke. He looks back at her, the muscles in his jaw working, and nods. He turns and opens his gas can, slowly pouring a line across the porch. He moves up to the side of the house, splattering the gasoline against the siding, and slides over the balcony to the ground, continuing around the left side of the building. Helena stares after him, and then into the dark house. She takes a deep, heaving breath, and then opens her own can, mirroring Luke’s movements around the other side.

It stinks. Helena has always hated the smell of gasoline, of alcohol, anything sharp and rancid, but this seems worse. She wishes she had brought a mask. She tugs her scarf up over her nose instead, hoping the liquid won’t splash back onto her but knowing that some will. It’s difficult at first, lifting the can high enough so that the gas spreads on the siding and not on the ground, but as the can gets lighter it becomes easier. She keeps looking back over her shoulder, certain that someone is going to see them, apprehend them, put a gun to her head. No one appears. When she rounds the other side of the house, coming up through the bushes lining the front, Luke is standing on the front porch. His second can is open, the first one cast aside into a dormant hydrangea. He dumps the gasoline over the paneling, splashing some on the front door and around the bushes.

Helena pauses and stares at his face, the mixture of fear and hatred coating his features. It’s the only combination that makes things like this possible, this blending of determination and desperation. Helena wonders if the same emotions are painted on her own face, or if she’s just doing it because she knows it’s the only thing left to do.

Luke looks up at her, gestures for her to move faster. She dumps the remaining liquid left in her can and discards it, tucking into the branches of a small crabapple tree. Helena ducks under it and scampers to meet Luke on the steps of the porch, just as the front door opens and Elle slinks through it, hands empty.

Luke rakes his gaze over her, jaw working. “Are we good?”

Elle doesn’t bother fully closing the door, just leaves it slightly ajar. Helena keeps expecting to see a face appear in the dark space. The back of her neck has goosebumps, and she shakes her head sharply. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so afraid. “Campbell?”

Elle looks at her. “He’s not coming.”

Helena doesn’t know how she can be so sure, since they’re all right in front of his house, but she doesn’t say anything. Elle gestures to the gas can still in Luke’s hand.

“Did you save any?”

Luke shakes the can, frowning when no more liquid sloshes around inside. Elle exhales sharply and digs into her pockets.

“It’s time to go,” She says, and Luke sets down the can. Helena hovers by the steps of the porch, leg wanting to bounce. She forces it to stay still, afraid of the noise it could make. “Get to the edge of the property until I light it, and then run. To the woods, away from here. We stick to the plan if we’re separated, okay? If we don’t find the others we meet up behind the school in two days.”

“Wait,” Helena blinks. “You’re going to light that right here? There’s too much gasoline around, we have some on our clothes –”

“There’s none left,” Elle retorts. “We can’t make a trail down the walkway, and we have to do it now.”

“I’ll do it,” Luke says. “You two go.”

“No.” Elle shakes her head. She fishes the matches out from her pocket, but her hands are shaking. She nearly drops them once before she latches her fingers around the box. Her knuckles are white, no gloves covering her pale skin. She shakes her head again, glancing at the door and back again with a panicked furrow in her brow. “No, it has to be me. I have to do it.”

“I can run faster than both of you,” Luke argues. “I can drop it and go, you might not, and I can take him in a fight if I have to.”

“ _No,_ ” Elle backs up a step, and the floorboard of the porch creaks. “No, get out of here now. You don’t understand.”

“Elle.” Helena steps forward, grabbing both of her hands. The matchbox rests in between their palms, and Helena shakes their grip once. Elle looks up at her, breathing quickly. There are tears brimming at the corners of her eyes, and Helena’s heart breaks for her. They just don’t have the time. “Elle, he’s right. I understand what this means to you, I do, but right now? Right now we need to go.”

Before Elle can finish nodding, Helena takes the matchbox out of her fist and shoves it at Luke. He wastes no time, opening it and grabbing a match to light. Helena leads Elle down the stairs and then turns back, quickly ascending two steps to throw her arms around Luke’s middle. He wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Run fast,” She says. “Come home.”

“Always,” Luke says, and he grabs her, kissing her lips and then her forehead. “Always.”

Helena nods, and then she’s gone, grabbing Elle’s hand and running away from the house. They cross the street and run until they reach a line of hedges near an intersection. Luke and the house are still in sight, and the two girls watch as he steels himself against the circumstance and the cold winter’s night.

When Luke drops the lit match onto the wet porch, they’re already sprinting down the street, toward the woods. When Helena turns her head back, Elle is already looking, transfixed on the flames covering the front of the building, screaming in their birth, curling around to the back and reaching for the sky. Someone screams. Luke is standing at the end of the walkway at the curb, looking upon the flames. Helena thinks that he looks like a soldier, standing at attention, waiting for the job to be done. Like he’s the barrier between this, and them. Helena thinks he looks brave.

They break the tree line, crashing through bushes and brush, getting as far away as they possibly can. Helena trips over a root, catching her jacket on a branch and ripping it open. After several moments, they can’t hear the crackle of the fire, or the emerging shouts coming from the surrounding homes. They can only hear the sound of their own ragged breath, the rapid beating of their own hearts. They pause for a moment, and Elle brings her hands up to the side of her head, letting out a frustrated exhale, grated and laden with sorrow. She kicks at a tree trunk and then follows up with her hand, crying and cursing under her breath. Helena looks back through the trees. She can see the smoke beginning to climb into the clouded sky, the slight flicker of the flame, but Luke is nowhere to be seen.

.

Gordie watches the sun set from the third floor window, and then he goes downstairs to lock the hospital doors.

He will be sleeping here tonight, he thinks. His limbs are heavy with fatigue and an even more burdening sense of anxiety. He keeps glancing at the clock, knowing that it’s a futile and compulsive effort. There’s no way any of the others have even arrived at Campbell’s house yet. Luke is probably still at the gas station, filling up the last of the cans to smuggle into his car. Still, his heartrate is through the roof. Gordie climbs the stairs back up to the third floor, around into a wing that they haven’t occupied yet other than to glean supplies. It’s completely empty, but there’s a lounge with a wrap-around, a corner with a window where he can watch the sky and be out of sight. He’ll try to sleep there, but he knows that he won’t. He has his backpack next to him, ready to go if need be. As far as he sees it, either way he’ll be leaving. One way he’ll have a warning, and one way he won’t.

Even when he reminds himself all the horrible things Campbell as done, even when he visualizes him holding a gun up to his face, Cassandra’s face, Gordie is still having a hard time rationalizing this. To say it needs to be done feels incorrect. He feels like he hasn’t thought through it enough, hasn’t thought through all the options. And yet, he’s almost content to let the angry part of him be satisfied. The other part knows he’ll never feel satisfied, nothing will ever make up for the rest of it all. He pulls his mind away from delving down a rabbit hole of what ifs and if onlys. He instead tries to think about how he’ll feel if Campbell is dead.

Predictably, better and not better at all. Relieved, and full of dread. Gordie hates the conflict that rides in his bones. It doesn’t matter. It’s not his decision, and he can’t stop it now. All he can do is watch the sky, and find out what his next move is. Find out if his friends die, or if Campbell does.

Gordie knows in his heart he’ll run either way. To consider Luke and Helena friends at this point is honestly a stretch, but they’re the closest allies he’s got in this situation. He hopes they survive, that their plan works and they make it into the woods. Gordie hopes he can find his way through the forest, the trek he’s been anticipating and dreading for months.

He hopes he doesn’t find an empty camp.

Abruptly and all at once, he curls in over on himself, sobbing dryly into his jeans. He thinks of Allie, with the blood of a thrown stone smudging her face. He thinks of Bean’s face when he told her they decided to execute Dewey. He thinks of Becca’s scared face when she first held Eden, and Eden’s cry. Just as he’s rising, the clench in his chest going away, he remembers Cassandra, and buckles down all over again.

No tears come out of his eyes to stain the denim on his knees. He just breathes out harsh, erratic breaths, his chest bucking underneath him. Gordie looks up, body still fighting against him, and watches as the sun begins to set over the far trees on the eastern side of the town. There are already some stars coming up overhead, just barely visible in the dimming light. Gordie wipes at his mouth, drags his hand across the side of his pant leg. The moon is a bright crescent, standing out in the darkness of the sky. The edge is still blue, a shallow sea blending into depths. It looks too beautiful to be there, something misplaced and left behind for only him to stare at. He doesn’t think he quite deserves it.

A sudden buzzing in his back pocket makes him nearly jerk out of his seat, reaching back to instinctively pull his phone out in front of him. He blinks at it, confused as it keeps buzzing in his hand, Bean’s face filling the screen. He hasn’t received a phone call in months. No one in town bothers texting him, they just bring themselves or their loved ones to the hospital. He hasn’t received a text or a phone call that wasn’t a vaguely threatening message from the Guard since his friends all ran away into the woods.

He pulls the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“ _Oh, so you are in there_ ,” the voice on the other end says. Bean breathes through the receiver, sounding slightly out of breath. “ _You’ve locked the door_.”

“Yeah,” Gordie agrees, searching for coherent thought. “Where?”

“ _The hospital_?” Bean’s voice is shaking, slightly. Gordie stands slowly, walking the few short steps across the dark room to the window. He presses himself against it, trying to look down, but he can’t see the door. “ _You are in the hospital, right? You’re not at home_?”

“Are you with anyone?” Gordie asks, and then feels like an asshole. “Are you okay?”

“ _I was with Gwen, but she went looking for Becca and Kelly. Gordie, we need to get back. We need your help._ ”

“Make sure no one’s followed you.” Gordie moves away from the window, turning and walking toward the stairs. “Be absolutely sure.”

“ _Why_?” Bean asks. “ _I know they’re looking for us, but. Have you done something_?”

Not yet, Gordie thinks dryly, descending through the dark stairwell. He hasn’t bothered to turn any of the lights on, had actually actively turned the clinic lights off when he’d sent the last patient home. He didn’t need anyone to think he was still here. And yet, someone had. He tries to remind himself that it’s someone good.

“No,” Gordie replies. “I’m just trying to be careful. I’m hanging up now, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Bean says, and Gordie ends the call. He flies down the last flight of stairs, shoving open the entrance door and walking briskly down the hall. The pale moonlight filters in through the windows, casting long and dim shadows across sterile floors.

He takes a look at Bean before he opens the front door, eyeing her and the empty space behind her. She looks above all else, cold. Her small arms are wrapped around her, donned in a thick parka. Her diminutive features have been made smaller and sharper by the rationing of food, something Gordie thought he had noticed in everyone in the town but notices even more in his friend. He doesn’t feel the way he thought he might feel when he saw her again. He’s been separated from them for so long, he’s begun to feel like his own entity, his own side, stranded in the hallways of this building. For a moment, he’s afraid he’s lost all connection with their fight and their friendship. That is, until Bean smiles at him, nervous and impatient, and something in Gordie’s chest begins to warm.

He unlocks the door and quickly lets her inside, feeling the biting air come in behind her. He quickly locks the door again, dragging a bench in front of it. Bean stares at him, still shivering.

“Things are that bad, huh?” She asks.

“What’s happened?” Gordie counters. “You’re here, what’s wrong?”

“I wanted to visit you,” Bean smiles coyly at him, and he frowns. She drops the charade. “We need you at the camp. Grizz is hurt.”

“Grizz,” Gordie repeats. “How?”

“The Guard shot him,” Bean says, and Gordie finds he’s not surprised. Not surprised, but very afraid. Grizz used to be one of their best friends, once. “Grazed his shoulder. He got away, but messed up his ankle. I can’t tell if it’s broken, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What about Kelly?” Gordie asks. “She knows just as much as me, if not more.”

“Kelly’s gone,” Bean snaps. Gordie remembers too late her saying she was with Gwen. Gwen, looking for Becca and Kelly. “She and Becca left over a week ago because of the cold. Kelly came back, said that she ran into Luke, who told her that the Guard was planning to hunt us down –“

Gordie scrunches up his face. Luke hadn’t said anything about that. “Wait a second. Luke?”

“She had to get back to Becca and the baby, so Grizz took her back. But then the Guard attacked them, I guess, and Grizz lost them, he doesn’t know where they are, didn’t say anything.”

“We need to back up,” Gordie demands. “Where is everyone else, is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Bean says. “Allie, Will, and Mickey are back at the camp. Sam is watching over Grizz. Gwen and I are here, but we all need to leave as soon as possible. The Guard is going to come after us, and we all need to be together.”

“What do you mean, the Guard is coming after us?” Gordie scoffs. “They’ve had their heads up their asses for the past two months, dealing with the food shortage and now this flu, are they really going to waste time on us?”

“They’re going to waste time on us because we defied Campbell,” Bean restricts her voice back to a hiss so that she doesn’t shout. “And he’s decided that he’s going to, I don’t know, make examples out of all of us. They _shot_ Grizz, Gordie. What do you think they’re willing to do to us?”

The two stare at each other, illuminated in the ever brightening shine of the moon. He thinks of the mess still in the clinic, just twenty yards behind them. He thinks of his bag, already packed and strapped to his aching back. Bean’s lip quivers. He knows that his brain is fooling him, but if he concentrates hard enough, he’s sure he can already smell gasoline.

Gordie takes a breath. “Where’s Gwen?”

“Down by the train station,” Bean replies. She’s staring at him with something inquisitive in her eye. Gordie’s too tired to extrapolate the meaning behind it. “That’s where Becca was waiting for Kelly to come back, it’s the last place we know they were.”

“Then we need to go there,” Gordie shoulders his backpack tighter, pulling on the straps. “And then we have to get back to the camp as soon as possible.”

Bean tugs her phone out of her pocket and looks at it, frowning. “I texted Gwen when I got here, but she hasn’t responded.”

Gordie looks out the window, and then down at his watch. It’s just after nine. They only have a couple of hours before Luke and the others act, and they need to be long gone by then. “We need to go now, then. While we can.”

“While we can?” Bean steps in front of him when he goes to move. “Gordie, something’s happening, and you’re not telling me. What’s going on?”

Gordie doesn’t answer her. He doesn’t have the words. His throat works around something, anything to say that will come close to describing this helpless situation, this sense of desperation. How he’s done things that he hates, and that he can’t quite forgive himself for. That he doesn’t think people will agree with, or pardon, and he doesn’t want them to. How he’s waiting on edge, in blissful anticipation, for an act of violence that he won’t be responsible for but will dream about all the same.

Before he can speak, the shadows shift on the wall, a foretelling painted on plaster. Gordie and Bean whip around, hearts in their throats, as Kelly places her palm on the door.

.

Elle doesn’t know how long they spend running, drawing in harried breaths and pushing past the burning in their quads. She just knows at some point her body and her mind decides it’s had enough, and she crashes to her knees in a frosted pile of leaves. Her kneecaps ache with the force of impact, the sudden drop of movement to stillness. Helena keeps running for a few paces before she slows to a stop, missing the matched sounds of snapping twigs and shuffled leaves. She turns and walks back to where Elle is kneeling, jeans soaking through with moisture. She’s sweating with nervousness and exertion, and she knows that the snow beneath her should feel jarring, should feel cold, but right now she’s having trouble feeling much of anything.

“Elle?” Helena asks, breath leaving her mouth in shallow bursts. Elle looks at Helena’s chest, watching it move up and down. Helena’s hair is wild, face wet in a combination of sweat, tears, and melted ice. Elle wonders, distantly, if she looks the same, or even worse. “Elle, we have to keep moving, we have to keep going.”

_Where? Where do we go?_ Elle thinks, but it doesn’t make it out of her mouth. She wants to say a million things, but she just shakes her head instead, switching her gaze so that she’s staring at the trunk of a birch tree. The paper thin layers of the bark are peeling off in large swatches. As she watches, a piece breaks off and drifts gently down onto the ground. Tears start to brim in the corners of her eyes, but she can’t figure out why.

“Elle,” Helena says, crouching down in front of her. She squats gently, so that her legs don’t hit the snow, but it can’t be comfortable. Still, she puts her hands on Elle’s shoulders, rocking minutely. “I know it’s hard, I know you’re tired. But we can’t stay here, we have to make it to the back of the school to meet Luke.”

“Luke didn’t make it.” Elle remarks on the tone of her voice, like someone has taken it out of her throat and played with it for a little while. Helena’s face shuts down fast, and anger settling over her eyes and disguising itself as denial. Some small part of Elle is satisfied that she can make Helena look like that. It’s the part of herself she hates the most. It’s like she’s holding her thoughts out an arm’s length away, looking at them. Half of her is still back at the house. “Campbell didn’t die, it didn’t kill him, and if he’s alive, Luke isn’t.”

“Shut up,” Helena hisses, her fingers digging into the sides of Elle’s jacket. The pressure is enough to sting, but Elle just blinks. “You saw that fire. There’s no way.”

“There’s always a way,” Elle says. “I know we tried, Helena, thank you for trying.”

“We have to keep trying,” Helena replies. “We have to go to the school, and meet Luke, okay? He’s going to meet us there.”

“What if he isn’t?”

Helena swallows, blinking harshly. “Then we deal with that then. Elle, there is no way Campbell got out of that fire, okay? And I know it hurts, and it’s hard, and I can’t even believe we did that, but it’s done. It’s over. Why do you feel like it’s not?”

“Because I can still _feel him_ ,” Elle sobs, breath breaking over the words. The world feels heavy around her, a pressure feeding the numb nothingness that has taken the place of temperature. “I thought that if it ended, that if he was dead, that I would stop feeling it, but it’s still here. I can still feel him, like he’s right here.”

“He’s not here,” Helena says, and Elle shakes her head again, the sharp movement hurting the base of her neck. “We can be safe soon, he’s not here.”

“Where are we going to go?” Elle asks, looking at Helena. The furrow of her eyebrows casts lines across her face, making her look like she’s aged. “To Allie?”

“If we have to,” Helena says slowly.

“She won’t take us,” Elle sniffs. “I wouldn’t, after what I did to her.”

“Grizz will help us,” Helena asserts, talking more to herself. “Grizz will help Luke, if he asks.”

Elle eyes her, but doesn’t say anything. After a moment, Helena nods to herself and rises, dusting off her coat in more of a compulsion than anything else. She looks behind her into the darkness of the woods, peering up at the moon peeking through the trees, before turning back to Elle and offering her hand. Elle takes it, letting herself be hoisted up into a standing position. Her head spins for a moment, the sense of pressure not easing at all. She tries to brush off the growing sense of nausea, and follows Helena as she begins walking on.

In the dead of the night, the wind comes back. It screams and howls, whipping around the bare trees. Helena covers her head with her arms, leaning forward and pushing on, but Elle doesn’t make any move to cover herself. She lets her hair toss around her, sometimes passing over her eyes, and tries to feel the bite on her skin. She’s felt cold for this entire winter, but now she’s having trouble connecting to it. She can only feel the heat of Campbell’s breath on her skin, his foot casting over the skin of her leg in his sleep. She can feel the burst of heat from when the gasoline was lit.

She didn’t expect to feel like this. She had expected some sort of film to fall away from her eyes, to feel relieved. She just feels sick to her stomach, and sad.

“We’re almost there,” Helena says awhile later. How she can know this, Elle has no idea, because she looks around and sees nothing she can recognize. Trees and more trees. Revolutionary.

They climb up a steeper incline, and above the crest of the hill Elle can see the dark outline of the bleachers on the other side of the football field. None of the lights are on, haven’t been since the beginning of their time in New Ham. Still, a strong and sudden anxiety courses through Elle like a strike of lightning, like she’s shocked herself on an electrical outlet. Helena keeps moving like she’s just going to waltz through the tree line, right into the open.

“Wait,” she says, and Helena pauses, looking back at her impatiently. “We can’t just go out in the open to be seen.”

“It’s midnight,” Helena deadpans. “No one is going to be here but Luke.”

“Unless someone followed him,” Elle points out. “Just wait. Listen.”

Helena crosses her arms, beginning to tap her foot but then cutting it off when the sound echoes. They sit there, trying to listen over the occasional howl of the wind. Helena keeps looking back at the break in the trees, shifting from side to side. Waiting for Luke to make some sort of noise, Elle knows. She also knows that he’s not there. She can see the moment the bad thoughts begin to cross Helena’s mind, the consideration of the worst case scenarios. She wishes she could offer some comfort, but she has none left.

There’s a snapping of twigs somewhere behind them, deeper back in the woods. Elle turns her head; Helena doesn’t move. It comes again, a light but noticeable noise. Goosebumps erupt on the skin of her arms involuntarily.

“Do you hear that?” She asks, and Helena frowns, shaking her head. The other girl turns back toward the football field, eyes searching and pleading. Nothing comes. Elle turns the other way, seeking the source of the noise. After a moment, it comes again – too light to be a human as big as one of the men in the Guard. Too small to be a woodland animal. “There’s something out there.”

“It’s probably just a squirrel.” Helena shivers, rubbing her gloved hands over her arms. Even in the darkness, Elle can see that her cheeks are rosy and sharp with the cold.

Elle frowns. “I don’t think so.”

It comes again, further now, but Elle finds herself stepping toward it. Helena turns, frustrated, and tells her stop, but she doesn’t. With every step, it’s almost as though the pressure in her head is lightening, easing and being replaced with a floating feeling. Just the fleeting feeling is enough to make her emotional, and she rubs at her chest with the bottom of her palm. It’s intoxicating, if brief. Helena calls her name again, louder now, but Elle ignores her.

“There’s something out there,” she repeats, and keeps walking. Helena groans under her breath, tearing her gaze from the football field and following her. The forest floor is darker now, clouds passing over the illuminant moon and making everything look like it’s in black and white. Elle stops briefly, waiting for the sound again, and Helena catches up with her. When she hears it again, she takes off at a faster pace, Helena stumbling behind.

“Elle, wait,” Helena barks. “ What are you doing? We have to wait for Luke.”

“You can wait,” Elle says flippantly. “I think something’s here. It sounds like it needs help.”

Helena screws up her face in confusion, about to retort, but then a whine cuts across the silent landscape of the forest. It’s high pitched, long and drawn out in its pain. The two girls make eye contact, a chill coursing through the both of them that has nothing to do with the wind.

“What is that?” Helena asks. “What could be out here?”

“It sounds like someone’s hurt,” Elle says. “Or maybe a deer, or something.”

“Or a coyote,” Helena mutters bitterly. “Deer don’t sound like that.”

Elle starts again, picking her feet up out of the heavy snow. “Come on.”

They walk toward where the sound emitted from, heartbeats in their throats. Elle has no idea why this feels so final, so significant, but it weighs in her bloodstream like there’s metal in her veins. When the whine comes again, she starts running, restored with an energy that left her hours ago. Helena has trouble keeping up with her now, as she runs, the stars coming down from the sky to lend her their light. It’s like she knows where she’s going, coursing across the unrecognizable paths. She slides down a hill, catching herself on her hands, dodging around a birch tree in her way. Suddenly, there’s a bark in front of her, and Elle skids to a halt, gazing in front her. Her chest heaves with effort. The forest seems brightened, and the pressure is gone.

“Charlie? What are you doing here?” She asks, entire soul in disbelief. The dog barks and bounds forward, coming into her arms as she crouches down into the snow. Helena comes up behind them, wiping at her face. Charlie licks her face and she laughs, looking up at her friend. “This is my dog.”

“Your dog?” Helena asks. “What the hell?”

“I thought he was dead,” Elle admits, running her hands down Charlie’s coat. “I thought Campbell killed him.”

“Then how is he here?” Helena hesitantly reaches down to pet the top of Charlie’s head, and his tail wiggles and he squirms in Elle’s arms. The whole area is silent again, offering only the beginnings of explanations. They look up at the clearing. Although they’re not far from the town, it seems like they’re in an entirely different world. They turn back to the shadows, not saying a word. The forest is waiting for them.

.

Allie’s awake again in the middle of the night, like she often is. She sits at the edge of the tent, the entrance half open as she sits and watches the embers of the fire. They look like they might die down soon enough, and when they do she knows she’ll rise to stir them. Will is asleep behind her, arm thrown up in a seemingly uncomfortable position as he breathes softly through his nose. He looks innocent, like he might have looked as a child before he was shipped from home to home. Allie knows he’s having good dreams, because that’s the only time he looks like this: at ease. She can’t remember the last time she didn’t have bad dreams, taunting her in her sleep like shadows somehow stark in the darkness. That’s probably why she doesn’t sleep much, anymore.

She wishes she could walk out into the forest, down to the stream. She used to like to sit there, watching the water flow around fallen branches and patches of ice. If she was a more poetic mind, she would think about the colliding of these two variances of the same element, differing densities forming a juxtaposition of form. Really, when she would look at it, all she would see is two things refusing to compromise. But she can’t go to the stream now, not alone. Not when she’s waiting for half of her friends to return, hopefully this time without any bullet wounds.

Allie gazes across the circle of tents to where she knows Grizz and Sam sleep. None of them have said much of anything since Becca left and the two boys became inseparable. It didn’t seem like there was all that much to say. Back in New Ham, maybe there would have had to be explanations, avoidances of repercussions. Here, it just turned out that none of them really cared. Either that, or they were so wrapped up in their own miseries that they didn’t have the mind or heart to oppose any form of happiness. Allie tries really hard to be realistic. She knows that it’s more likely the second scenario.

She rises silently, padding across the clearing toward the fire. She adds more wood and stokes it with their long branch, the end of it charred away. She strains her ears, as though maybe she could hear something going on in the woods, some commotion she could check out. She had thought that too, when they were waiting for Grizz to come back. She hadn’t heard a single thing, not until he was practically within arm’s reach. This forest, she thinks, swallows things. It strips things away.

She pokes the fire again, watching sparks fly up into the dark of the night. It’s only then, after she follows an ember until it dies out, that she realizes that someone else is awake. Allie looks over again at Grizz and Sam’s tent, noting the navy blue of a sky about to welcome the sun again. Grizz’s eyes look imploringly back at her, always noticeable, always bright and somehow kind against the warring heaviness. Allie blinks, watching the boy shift in the entrance of the tent. Sam is asleep behind him, he must be, but all Allie can notice is the lines of pain drawn across Grizz’s face as he tries to find a comfortable position. Allie sighs, gesturing for him to come over and sit beside her on one of the logs. Grizz looks conflicted, shifting his gaze from her to the empty space behind her and back again. Eventually he attempts to lift himself up, grunting slightly under his breath as he struggles to not put any weight on his bad leg.

Allie doesn’t offer to help him. Grizz stands slowly and hobbles over, pausing to use the other logs as support. He finally reaches the other side of the circle, falling onto the seat next to her, trying to hide the fact that he’s breathing harshly. Allie eyes him in the dim light of the fire, and the coming dawn.

“You’ve looked better,” She remarks softly, not unkindly. Grizz scoffs, raking a hand back through his messy hair.

“Thanks.” Grizz huffs out a silent laugh. “I feel like a million bucks.”

“You’re lucky,” Allie says, and Grizz purses his lips. “How does it feel?”

“My ankle?” Grizz asks, and then his mouth forms a grim line. “It hurts.”

“No shit.” Allie rolls her eyes, doesn’t know if Grizz even sees. She pokes at the fire again, knowing full well it’s not going to do anything. “You know you scared the living hell out of all of us, right?”

“I know,” Grizz frowns. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did.”

“What do you want me to say?” Grizz asks, in a moment of anger Allie has rarely seen from her friend. She knows it’s her fault when people do this, she just pushes and pushes until people snap back at her, but she never really considered that it would happen with Grizz. Not with her. “I wish things had gone differently, and now we’re all fucked. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Allie says, but Grizz presses on, softly and quietly in the fractured, borrowed moments they find themselves wading in.

“I knew what would happen, when I came out here,” Grizz says. “I knew what the consequences would be, with all of my friends. I just thought – I don’t know what I thought. I thought it wouldn’t happen, maybe. The worst case wouldn’t exist. That maybe it would be different.”

“’Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen,’” Allie replies, and Grizz stares at her, a small grin on his face. She shrugs. “What? I read.”

“Not voluntarily.”

“So what, I took your book out of your bag one day while you were off doing who knows what.” Allie rolls her shoulders back, shrugging off the implication. “What’s a girl to do, when there’s no TV?”

Grizz smiles again, a gentle thing, and uses his hands to lift his leg in the air. He settles his ankle elevated on another log, turning slightly away from her. Allie says nothing more, just feeds the fire and enjoys the company as the sun begins to crawl its way up toward the sky. After a little while, Sam emerges to join them, followed by Will just as the sky is beginning to lighten. It’s hard to stay asleep in the cold, and for weeks now they’ve all just followed the will of the nature around them, rising when it rises, sleeping when they can bear to. Mickey stays asleep in his own tent, the entrance flaps closed tightly and secured.

It’s not until the sky has turned orange, bleeding into blue in the breaking of the dawn, that they see the smoke.

“What is that?” Sam asks. Will stands, walking forward a few steps as though that will better his view. The smoke climbs over the edges of the trees, nowhere near them but certainly visible. Allie feels like she should be able to smell it, but it’s not strong. It’s probably just the smoke coming from their own fire.

Grizz frowns, shifting in his seat. Allie finds that she doesn’t feel she can move from hers. “That’s coming from the town.”

“I thought it was just the smoke from here,” Allie hears herself saying. Will shakes his head.

“That’s way more than one fire.” Will looks back at them, as though they have anything to say, any solution, and then turns back again. “Something’s happening.”

Allie looks to her right. Sam’s face is filled with fear and confusion, shoulders shivering from more than just the cold. Grizz’s hand is entwined with his, but he breaks it as he struggles to his feet. Both Allie and Sam give disapproving sounds, but he ignores them.

“We have to go back,” Grizz asserts, taking a shaky step forward. He barely makes it a few feet before his knee buckles, and he has to support himself on one of the logs again. Sam stands, walking over and straightening him up.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sam says, and Grizz’s eyebrows furrow, his jaw clenching.

“He’s right,” Allie defends him, and Grizz looks more frustrated. “There’s no way you’re making it all the way back to New Ham on that ankle. And we’ve sent too many people away already. We have to wait until they come back.”

“If they come back,” Will retorts, and Allie glares at him. “Grizz is right. Something’s gone wrong, and we have no way of knowing what if we don’t go.”

“Or we get caught, and everything goes to hell.” Allie crosses her arms across her chest, defensive.

Sam shakes his head. “We need to stay here.”

“They could be in danger!” Grizz breaks away from Sam, turning to face him. His hands fly in a flurry of half-signs, distressed. “Sam, we have to go. Becca could be in danger. _Eden_ could be in danger.”

Sam’s face screws up in despair, looking to Allie for something, some sort of support. Allie leans back on her heels, grinding her teeth. Will tugs on his hat, shoving extra warm gloves onto his hands. The lighter the sky becomes, the easier it is to see the smoke climb over the horizon.

Will stomps over to Mickey’s tent, shaking the top and yelling for him to wake up. Allie can only stare at him, at the rigid posture carrying him forward. Will has always carried this sort of righteousness that seems to take over his body, and as much as Allie loves and admires it, she hates it too. She carries it as well, a hot pulse in her blood, they all do. But it’s moments like this that separate her from Will, from everyone else. In this moment of action, this is when she feels most alone.

She walks over to Will, ignoring Mickey’s cries that he’ll be out in a minute. She grabs his arm, makes him look at her.

“We need to think,” She says. “We have to stop running into these things blindly. It could be a trap, or something we should be staying the hell away from.”

“A trap?” Will scoffs. He looks to Grizz for support, but the other man says nothing. “There’s no way they can think that far forward. People might need help, Allie.”

“Yeah,” She agrees. “You’re right, they might. But what are we going to do for them?”

Will stares at her, jaw muscles working in thought and frustration. After a moment, he reaches down to grab his backpack, throwing it over his shoulders and moving to brush past her. Allie reaches out to stop him, putting her hands on his chest, but Will stops before she can protest again. Grizz makes a pained, confused noise in the back of his throat. Allie looks at him, but Grizz is gazing past the barriers of the camp, out toward the tree line. Allie turns to where the boys are looking, heart in her throat.

Out from the edge of the forest, two figures stumble into the field. The smoke continues crawling up overhead, painting the dawn in its dark visage. The four of them stare as Gwen limps toward them, arms around a tired and battered Luke. Allie swallows. Gwen’s shout for help seems underwater, coming forward in slow pulses like the forest itself.

Will drops his backpack. Behind them, the fire roars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta da! I hope you've all enjoyed the ride. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> if you'd like, give me a follow over on tumblr at themostexcellentfinder. I have a lot more time on my hands right now due to the circumstances of current events, so I would love suggestions or prompts for stories to write if you'd like to read them!
> 
> much love to you all

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter for this fic is from a line in Lord of the Flies, which is: “And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.”
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! <3
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr at themostexcellentfinder!


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